Light Up The Sky (Klaine Summer Challenge fic)
by Mrs Criss 2012
Summary: AU. Kurt and Blaine meet on the Fourth of July. Prompts filled: Fireworks, Pool, Picnic, Biking, Boardwalk, Beach, Concert, Camping *Updates weekly, or as and when I feel like it, but definitely weekly!* Note- this is a bit different to my usual works. You might like it, you might not, but give it a go!
1. Chapter 1

**Kurt.**

It's the Fourth of July and it is hot. Burning, sticky, achingly hot. I want to be at home, devoid of clothes, lying in my dark, air-conditioned room, underneath my fan. However, every Fourth of July since I can remember, we have come here, to the lake, along with most of the other inhabitants of Lima, to cook food, drink beer, and wait for the evening fireworks.

My dad won't let the hundred and two degree temperature stop him.

To be fair, I like it just as much as he does. Various families stop by, old or current customers of his, some of my old friends from High School, a few ex-neighbors who can still remember mom. They all make comments, mainly about how much I've grown and, despite me being out of the closet for over ten years now, several still ask if I've met a nice girl yet.

I just smile politely. This is Lima, after all. If it were New York I'd probably make some acerbic remark, but I know it gets my dad's back up whenever I unleash my sarcasm upon some poor Ohioan who doesn't quite grasp that my being gay means that women are off the radar for me.

As the afternoon wears on, a light breeze picks up, mercifully, and dad and I recline on a blanket under a parasol, chatting about nothing in particular and just enjoying the day together. Tomorrow will see me returning to New York and him to work at his garage, a prospect that neither of us want to think about.

It's not that I dislike New York- far from it. I love it there, it's my home and I love the life I've created for myself; my career, my friends, and my apartment which I share with two totally crazy but lovable girls...But New York doesn't have my dad.

There isn't anyone like him. My best friend for as long as I can remember, my dad is blunt, to the point, rude, obstinate, and completely wonderful. He's also my biggest champion, my fiercest protector and damn, I might be twenty seven years old but I miss living at home with him, which is exactly why I fly back as often as I can.

I look over at him now, propped up against the cooler, his baseball cap pulled down over his eyes. As if sensing my gaze, he lifts his hat and hands me his wallet.

"Lemonade."

"What? You want some?"

"Yeah. There's a stand over there, isn't there?"

"Over there? If by over there you mean a good two miles away then yes, there's a stand over there."

He laughs and pulls his hat down again. "Two miles. You're so dramatic. Go get us some lemonade, boy."

I get to my feet with a groan, the weather making my joints ache as if I were a hundred years old. I jog a little, just to ease it up, but I slow to a walk quickly enough, the sweat already beginning to roll down my temples. By the time I get to the lemonade stand I feel like I'm melting, and the line is long. Luckily it snakes around into the shade and I follow it, finally reaching the end under a large tree, where a young man stands, looking out over the lake.

Let me make this clear; I am not one to strike up conversation with random strangers, which might well account for my lack of a dating life, I guess. I prefer to be introduced to someone through work, or a mutual friend, and then, gradually, I will build conversation in my own sweet time. I've been hit on a few times, but I clam up immediately, and soon enough they trail away, making some lame excuse about needing to be somewhere.

However, there's something about this guy that makes me want to say...something. I'm not even sure what. He's shorter than me, with dark hair that is gelled down, but curling at the edges. Those little curls are the only sign that he is feeling the heat. Unlike everyone else, sweating profusely and fanning themselves, he stands, staring off into the distance, wearing dark sunglasses, a neatly pressed light blue shirt, with a red bowtie and beige shorts and he looks immaculate. Completely unruffled.

"Are you in the line?"

He jumps a little and turns, smiling politely. "Line for what?"

"The lemonade stand."

"Oh." He looks left and right, then shrugs. "No. I'm not in line. I'm waiting for someone. Am I in your way?"

"Not at all." I smile, and try to take my blatant stare away from his face before he says something. "I'll just..."

"Okay."

I side step him, and he turns back to the lake once more. I wait in line for a few minutes but every time I look back he's there, still watching the few sailboats out on the water, and the little kids splashing at the edge.

Three people join the line behind me, but I've already decided I'm going to go back over and talk with him some more. Only the trouble is, as I turn to walk over, I see him heading off into the distance, his arm linked through another guy's.

The other man is taller, and obviously saying something that makes them both laugh. Then, as I continue to stare, I see lemonade guy lean his head onto his shoulder, while his companion kisses into his hair.

Deflated, I get the lemonade and return to dad, who is now snoring lightly. From our position I can't see where the guy has got to, but then again I'm not sure I'd want to, anyway.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Jesus! You were asleep a minute ago." I stare accusingly at my dad. "What's wrong is that you made me go get lemonade."

"It's more than that."

I sigh. I might as well say it, since I know dad will not ever shut up until he's satisfied. "I was talking with a hot guy, and then he went off arm in arm with his boyfriend."

"Oh."

"That's all you've got to say?"

"Not a lot else to say, is there? I'm astounded you found one other gay man here, let alone two."

"I didn't want to find two! I wasn't expecting to find one... I didn't know he was gay, I just liked him. He seemed...sweet."

"Makes no difference if he's gay or straight though, sunshine, he ain't interested in you."

"Thank you for that. Go back to saying nothing, please."

The rest of the afternoon passes with us bickering back and forth in that way that makes other people raise their eyebrows at us, but which makes us both laugh. I forget all about the lemonade guy, and I'm distracted still further when my grandparents, aunt and uncle arrive. They're all from my mom's side, but when she died, my grandma pretty much refused to let my dad alone, and now he counts them as his own parents, I think, since his own are long since passed on.

My aunt Ruth and my uncle Pete are good people, working tirelessly for their church when they're not busy with their day to day jobs, so we don't see them much. Dad says they threw themselves into church life when Ruth suffered her sixth miscarriage and doctors told her not to try again. Still, whatever they get out of religion must help, since they're the most cheerful and tolerant people I know, and Ruth is forever trawling the internet trying to set me up with gay christian men.

I haven't the heart to tell her I'm agnostic.

The evening draws in and, with just a half hour to go until the fireworks start, darkness is beginning to fall. I'm dispatched once again, this time to the beer tent because we've run dry. I'm on my way back, our little party within sight, when I see the lemonade guy sitting on the grass, alone.

In fact, I don't see him, I trip over his foot, causing us both alarm, and when I turn ready to huff at them for making me stumble, I realize it's him. "I am so sorry!"

"No, no, it's me who should be sorry," he says, his face burning with embarrassment. He gets to his feet, and I get the feeling he's completely panicked, though it's hard to tell with those sunglasses still in place. "I stuck my foot out at the wrong time, obviously. I should... Wait a minute, are you the guy from earlier? At the lemonade stand?"

I am more than slightly annoyed that my face has left such little impression that he needs to ask, but I smile tightly. "The very same. Only now with beer dripping down my leg."

"Oh gosh. I... I'm sorry. Here, I'll give you the money for another..."

"No, really, no matter, it only spilled a drop, " I say. I put my hand out to stop him from reaching for his wallet, but he flinches when I touch his wrist. "Sorry. Anyway, one of these is for my dad, and he'll be waiting, so I'll go. I hope you and your boyfriend have a good night."

"Huh?" He frowns, and damn if it isn't entirely adorable. "Boyfriend?"

"The uh...the guy? From earlier?"

He laughs, and damn if that isn't entirely adorable too; more so, in fact. "That's my brother. Decidedly not gay."

I don't give myself time to dwell on my embarrassing faux pas, or the fact that for two grown brothers, they seem almost incestuously close, but I seize instead on his last sentence. "Not gay? You? Him? Both?"

"Him," he clarifies. "In fact, he's off with some girl right now, which is why I'm alone. But I'm um... I'm gay. Yes. Sorry if that offends."

"Hardly. Have you seen me? I'm gayer than a boy scout camp."

"Are scout camps gay?" He ponders this. "I went on several when I was younger. I don't recall any of that going on."

"Yeah, okay." I laugh. "So are you going to stay for the fireworks?"

"I don't really have much choice. Cooper, my brother, he's my ride."

"Oh." I wait, but he's either not getting the hint, or he's monumentally shy. I think the latter, because he doesn't really look at me as we speak; more like he just looks over my shoulder, or down at the ground. "I could sit with you, if you wanted?" I ask, taking the plunge. "Keep you company?"

"That would be... Yeah." He grins then, brightly, and I'm flooded with relief to see he's as happy about the suggestion as I am. "Yeah, sure."

"Okay. Let me just take this beer to my dad. He's right there."

I dash over, thrusting a beer at dad, mumbling something about lemonade boy needing company, and run back to him as quick as I can, acutely aware of my entire family staring at my retreating back.

"I'm back."

There's a moment of awkwardness but then he seems to come to life, sitting back down and gesturing for me to sit next to him, which I do. "Oh, did you want beer?" I ask. "I can run back and get you one, or we can share this?"

"I'm good, thanks," he says quietly. He alternates between staring out toward the lake, which is reflecting the most striking pink and purple hues, or giving me shy little glances, which make my stomach flutter.

"The colors are amazing, huh?"

"The sunset? Yeah," he sighs wistfully. "Yeah."

"I'm Kurt, by the way."

"Oh. Blaine. Blaine Anderson." He offers his hand and I shake it, happy to note that he doesn't flinch this time.

"Sorry about earlier...the confusion with your brother. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions like that. It's just you two looked very close."

"We are."

"Right. Yeah. Well...Sorry."

"No problem. So uh...Do you live in Lima? You might be the only other gay person I've ever met in the whole of Ohio."

"I don't live here. Well, not all the time. I live in New York, but I get back whenever I can."

"Oh. Are you in college?"

"A bit past that." He thinks I look younger than I am. I am liking him more and more. "I'm a fashion writer. For Eloquence magazine."

"Never heard of it."

"I don't think it's sold in Lima. It's a bit...high end, I guess. Couture."

"You like it?"

"I do, actually. Most of the fashions are crazy and totally out there. You wouldn't wear them walking down the street, anyhow. I get to go to a lot of runway shows."

"Nice."

"What do you do?"

He stiffens, and shifts himself a little awkwardly. Though it is now dark, I know he's blushing. "I'm just about to go into my senior year."

Well, fuck, I think to myself. "I don't think you mean college, do you?"

"No."

"Right. Ten years, then."

"Huh?"

"Between us. Ten years."

"Oh."

He waits, but I have no clue what I'm supposed to say or do, except for stop lusting after this...this...insanely attractive man-boy.

"You can uh... You don't have to stick around, it's okay," he says quietly.

At that moment, the first of the fireworks light up the sky; a cascade of blues and reds, accompanied by a loud bang. Blaine jumps, and immediately brings his knees to his chest, ducking his head down.

It's such a weird reaction that I quickly place a hand on his shoulder, which startles him again. "It's okay."

"Sorry. Sorry. Fireworks terrify me."

"You don't need to apologize. And I'm not going anywhere," I add.

At this, he relaxes, straightening his legs out and resting his hands behind him. He gazes up at the night sky through his sunglasses. "Thank you. I didn't want to stay, but Cooper said he'd sit with me and..."

Another bang, and Blaine flinches hard. Not quite as bad as the first time, but it's still very obvious that he's not comfortable. The noise continues then, the pip-pipping of the crackling comets raining down, the whine of rockets climbing and the louder boom of the kamuros, leaving a glittery trail across the sky. I watch him carefully, unsure of whether I should touch him again to try and offer some comfort.

"Oh God. Is it finished?" he asks sadly.

"I doubt it, not yet. Just a small break."

"I hate them," he moans. "I really do."

"They're pretty, though," I try. "You know, if you take your glasses off you'll be able to see them better."

He turns to face me, his expression entirely unreadable. "Excuse me?"

"If you take your sunglasses off, I mean. Because they're making everything that much more dull, right? It's night, anyway. So take them off and you'll be able to see the fireworks better."

"Uh..." He starts to run a hand through his hair, remembers it's gelled in place, and stops himself.

Another series of bangs.

"I can't see them, Kurt," he says when there's quiet and he's stopped shaking. "That's why they scare me. I'm blind."


	2. Chapter 2

**Blaine.**

The moment those words are out of my mouth, I stop paying attention to the noise of the fireworks and listen instead for Kurt. I think he might have gone, which is upsetting since he's the first friend I've made off my own back since I was fourteen. But then again, we've only been sitting here for fifteen minutes. Is that long enough to count someone as a friend?

"You're blind?"

"Oh!" I catch my breath, and smile. "Yeah."

"You never said."

"I thought you'd guessed," I admit, suddenly feeling very foolish. "That's why I'm kinda stuck here, and why I was holding onto my brother earlier. I stupidly left my cane at home. I've never done that before. I wanted to go back for it, but we were already here, and Cooper said he'd keep me close, only he didn't so... I'll shut up."

"No, don't it's fine," he says, though the tone of his voice tells me it's anything but. "I just... I don't know what to say."

"Well, that's better than most."

"Huh?"

"Usually, when people find out, they either leave, or they start rambling about their great aunt who went blind at ninety seven, or they pretend like I just haven't said anything, like it doesn't make a difference, when it really does."

"Of course it does," Kurt says bluntly. "You can't see."

"Quite."

"Sorry. Have you always...?"

"No. Car accident when I was fourteen. The day of my birthday, no less. A truck went into the side of us, hitting the rear passenger side where I was sitting."

"And it took your eyes out?"

I laugh loudly. I know from his laugh that he's joking, and he's pleased he's made me happy. "Yeah. Took them right out." I'm still laughing and somehow, explaining what happened doesn't seem as awkward and upsetting as it usually does. "I was leaning against the window, earbuds in. I didn't hear it, notice it, nothing. Then suddenly I felt the most almighty shove, and then black. Turns out the truck hit me on the left hand side of my skull, and the result of that was it impacted on the part of my brain that controls sight. So that was it."

"That was it?"

"Well, it was more than that. I had a broken shoulder, collarbone, wrist, pelvis, femur... I was trapped in the car and had to be cut free. I'm basically held together by pins."

"Oh my god. But your sight...The doctors couldn't save it?"

"No. They operated, since my retinas had become detached, but the brain damage is the actual reason I can't see. Here, gimme your hand."

It's weird; I have to hold the arms or hands of a lot of people now, but taking Kurt's hand in mine feels strange. I hold it carefully, afraid that he might snatch it away at any moment, like I do when I'm not aware someone is about to touch me, but he doesn't, even though he is shaking.

I carefully raise his fingers into my hair, running them gently along the bumpy raised line that runs from just behind my left ear, up and over my head before disappearing on the other side.

"Your hair is really soft," he says, his voice full of tenderness. "I mean, the scar feels a bit gross, and the gel is hideous, but your actual hair is lovely."

"Ha!" I like his bluntness, his ability to make wisecracks when I know he's internally freaking out. "The rest of my brain works fine," I feel the need to add. "It's just that part that they couldn't save."

"You're lucky to be saved at all, by the sounds of it."

"Indeed."

"Were your parents driving?"

"Cooper. His girlfriend was in the front. She escaped with minor injuries. Cooper had bad whiplash, but it was me who took the full impact. It wasn't his fault," I rush on, before he can ask, like most people do, if he'd been drinking. "The truck driver fell asleep at the wheel and his foot hit the accelerator. Could have been worse. So much worse."

"Yeah, but I'll bet your brother blames himself."

"He does, yeah. How did you know?"

"Because I know how I'd feel, that's why. So tell me, do you see anything, or just black?"

"I see..." I stop, thinking of how to explain. I've told mom, dad and Cooper exactly what I do see, but they are all convinced it's my brain playing tricks on me. Being blind means a lot of well-meaning people assume they know you better than you know yourself, I find.

"I see color, but not... Like today, it's hot, right? Sunny? And I can see the brightness... I see it as flames. Not distinguishable flames. More like a never ending swirl of orange and red, with no discernible pattern or direction. When it's cold, or rainy, I see dull grays and navy. At night it's black and grays... Sometimes there's white, when I wake, but never green. I miss green. And yellow. Purple. Pink."

"Are you going to go through the whole rainbow?"

"Sorry."

"No, don't be, I'm just teasing you. Of course you miss the colors. I find it interesting, though, that your brain responds to the weather in that way. Or is it responding to the brightness of the sky, on any given day?"

"The brightness, I think. But it makes no difference if I'm facing a building with the sun glinting off it, or sitting here, by the water, or wherever I am. On a bright day, it's always orange and red."

"Hmm. Do you remember much? Like how things looked before?"

"Yes, but those memories are fading. I know I hated my hair. I remember things like trees, cats, dogs, cars, that sort of stuff. Generic stuff. But when I think of my parents, or Cooper, they're fuzzy. Like maybe I don't want to see them because it will hurt too much? I don't know this town. We moved here, you see, after the accident. Before that we were living in West Virginia."

"How come you moved?"

"Uh, well, school was... You see, I was in my last year of middle school and by the time I was out of hospital, it was summer. So then I had to start at high school and it was daunting, to say the least. So much to get used to. I'd moved up with all my friends, only they weren't my friends anymore. They were these kids who never knew how to act around me, who were afraid to suggest a trip to the movies, or bowling, who didn't invite me anywhere because they thought I couldn't do it, or enjoy it. So I became more or less a recluse, just me and my piano, until dad announced we were moving for a fresh start. Cooper lives in Columbus so it's nearer to him anyway. He's my friend."

"He's older?"

"He's twenty nine."

"Oh. A lot older."

"Yeah."

"So tell me the best thing about being blind."

"The _best_ thing?"

"Yeah. I mean, there's gotta be some perks, right?"

The question is so completely alien that for a second I think about snapping at Kurt to mind his own business, but then I think, swallowing my temper down. "My mom can always get a good parking spot at Target."

"Come on."

"I guess I notice stuff more," I begin slowly. "Which is weird, since I can't see but... People, you know? I'm quite good at knowing how people are really feeling, based off of their voice. I pay attention to the tone, or their choice of words. The slight inflections which tell me if someone is lying, or trying to get out of having a conversation with me, which is good, since I know to politely excuse myself so they don't feel awkward."

"So _they_ don't feel awkward? Man, I'd tell them to go fuck themselves."

I laugh, a little shocked at his cursing, though I don't know why. He's an adult, I tell myself. A grown man.

"I've learned to appreciate things, live in the moment, that kind of thing," I continue, sensing that Kurt is genuinely interested in my reply. "Things like an unusual birdsong in the trees can make me stop in my tracks and just listen. I'm trying to be more adventurous, but that's hard for me, since I never really was to start with. But I hope to go to college, which is why I'm working on being out in busy public places a little more."

"What's the worst thing?"

"Just that. Being out in busy spaces. I'm quite a quiet person, naturally, so to suddenly hear a whole cacophony of noise can make me really uneasy. When people approach me and I involuntarily jump about a mile..."

"Like you did with me?"

"Yeah."

There's a long pause then, and I become aware of Kurt shifting about, possibly to set his drink down. "I'm gonna move a little closer, okay?"

"Why?"

"Because I'd like to?"

"You don't have to."

"That's not what I said."

I feel his hand come down between us as he slides closer and we sit side by side, our knees touching. "Okay?"

"Yeah."

"So tell me what the worst thing is."

"How long have you got?" I pause, bringing Doctor King's words to mind. " _Be positive, Blaine, even on your darkest days. A positive outlook is what will stop you going under._ "

"Just _not seeing_ ," I say, aware that it sounds terribly pathetic. "Not being able to read people."

"But you said..."

"I know, I know. I'm more acutely aware of people's tone, but I miss seeing people's faces as they talk. Just now, you laughed, and I wish I could see that... I wish... I wish I wasn't a social pariah. Can I tell you something?"

"Sure."

"You won't tell anyone?"

"Like who?"

"Fair point. Okay. I think...before the accident...I think I was okay looking. And Cooper says none of my scars are visible when I'm clothed... But no one looks at me, you know? No girls, guys... I'm not out at my school, but neither am I in. There's no point in telling anyone I'm gay because no one thinks of me as having any of those feelings at all. It's just been junior prom and for the first time in my life, I asked someone out. A girl, just as a friend. I sit with her in French, and she's always really nice to me. But she turned me down, because she didn't want to drive herself to prom, or have my parents take us. And I can't do anything about that, can I? There's this guy on the dodgeball team, always has the most mesmerising voice when he talks, but he just pats me on the back as I pass, which makes me flinch, and I know he doesn't see me, doesn't notice me as anything other than the blind kid."

"You play dodgeball?"

"I'm good. But that's not really the point."

"No it's not, you're right." Kurt sighs, and leans into me a little more. "I see you."

"For now, yes, and I'm grateful."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I've had a really nice time with you, and I thank you for your company. But you live in New York."

"I told you I come back a lot."

There's something to his tone that sounds sad, as if I've offended him in some way, but surely a twenty seven year old fashion writer from New York is not interested in being friends with a seventeen year old blind kid?

"You wanna know another bad thing?" I ask.

"What?"

"My dad has to shave me."

I don't know why that makes him laugh, but it does, and he seems to laugh for the longest time before eventually calming, and resting his head onto my shoulder. I like it.

"Oh Blaine. Hell, you're adorable, you know that?"

Yes, is my answer, I do know that. I know that because I hear it all the time, as if I were a two year old. Only, it's not usually directed at me. It's usually said to my parents, as if I were incapable of either receiving a compliment, or answering to one. I hate being called adorable, usually, but there's something about the way Kurt says it. Something...flirty? No. I shove that thought to the back of my mind and lock it firmly away.

"You're um... You're leaning on me."

Kurt stiffens and pulls away. "Sorry."

"I just wasn't sure if you...if you meant to."

"I meant to," he says quietly, and I'm suddenly aware that he's close to my shoulder once more, his breath tickling my ear. "I wanted to...but I probably shouldn't."

"Boyfriend in New York?"

"No, I'm just... Aware that you're very young."

Everything in me sinks. "And blind."

"No!" The firm loudness makes me startle, and he places a hand on my arm to keep me still. "It's not the fact that you're blind, is it? How can it be? I was attempting to flirt with you before I even knew. I just... I feel awkward about..."

"Blaine!"

Of all the times for my brother to reappear, this was possibly the worst. I groan, outwardly and inwardly, and quickly squeeze Kurt's hand where it rests on my arm, before he takes it away and gets to his feet. I feel Cooper standing protectively behind my back, probably glaring at Kurt, so I get to my feet too, and turn around to face him.

"Coop, this is Kurt. Kurt, meet my brother, Cooper."

Neither say hello, and this is another time when I curse my lack of sight, because I can't tell, but I'm pretty sure they're squaring off to one another. "Hello?" I call uncertainly.

"Car, Blaine, now."

"But I..."

"But nothing. Here." He grabs my elbow and steers me away.

"Cooper!"

"Hey! Don't force him away like that!" I hear footsteps and my heart soars, to know that Kurt won't be so easily dismissed. "I was in the middle of a conversation with your brother, nothing more. If you're that concerned about his welfare, why did you bail on him to go chasing some girl?"

This time, I groan inwardly, as Cooper's grip tightens on my arm. "Maybe, just for once, I don't want to babysit my kid brother. Maybe I assumed that with him sitting here, he'd be safe from predators and people who've got nothing better to do than to mess with the emotions of a blind kid. Maybe, I'd like some kind of life that doesn't revolve around constantly caring for Blaine."

Every single word smacks like a punch to the gut, and the venomous anger and bitter resentment in his voice twists inside of me so much that I barely hear what Kurt says next, but I know his voice is calm and collected. Still, he has to call my name to make me pay attention.

"Huh?"

"I said I wasn't here to mess with you, or lead you on. I'd like to get your number, if I can?"


	3. Chapter 3

Kurt

Until that moment, I had no intention of asking for Blaine's number. I wanted to, of course, but in my heart I felt it wasn't fair to keep up contact. I'm hopeless at relationships, which is ironic since it's all I've ever wanted, but for some reason, just as soon as I start dating someone, it all falls apart.

Take David. He and I dated for nearly two years of college and honestly? I don't remember a single day that we didn't argue. The sex was great, and we had moments when we really were happy together, but my paranoia, coupled with his jealousy, was a potent combination and eventually, we split.

After David came Wade, who was so laid back he might have been horizontal. He didn't want to 'label' us, didn't want to 'commit' or 'be tied down' and if he said those words to me once, he said them a thousand times. It drove me mad, never knowing if he was out with someone else, or if he genuinely had feelings for me. We lasted three months.

My one dalliance with an older man, John, had left me angry at the entire human race, because he would not leave me alone and was clingy to the point of being a stalker. When he waited outside my apartment for two hours in the pouring rain, just to see where I'd been that night, that was the end. Oh, and the discovery that he had three adult children didn't help, either.

Over the years, I know I've gotten to the point where I am the biggest bastard to guys; if I manage to strike up conversation to begin with, that is. In fact, that's the issue, I think. Guys assume I'm not after a quick lay, because I take time and make the effort to know someone. But then, after a couple of dates, maybe some sex, I blow it off, too afraid that all my flaws will show themselves and the person concerned will run screaming for the hills.

However, Blaine is someone I'd like to know, even if it doesn't develop into anything else, which it shouldn't. His brother's arrogant behavior had pissed me off, as he towered over Blaine, his icy blue eyes boring into mine. He claimed ownership over him and then moaned about it, and I know it made Blaine feel like shit. When I asked for his number, the brother had looked like he was about to fly into an apoplectic fit, but Blaine's whole face had lit up, and he quietly reeled his number off, but didn't ask for mine in return.

That means the onus is on me to call. I can't text, as I usually would, because I don't know how Blaine hears texts. Does someone read them for him? That could be awkward. Or does his phone read them out loud as soon as they arrive? That could be even worse. So, I need to call. Only, it's been over a week, and I haven't called at all.

"You still deliberating?"

My roommate, Santana, rouses me from my musings. "Yeah." I stretch out the full length of the couch, watching her as she walks to the fridge, steals one of our other roommate, Rachel's, health shakes, and takes a large swig.

"Just call him."

"He's seventeen. And blind."

"So you keep saying, but I fail to get why his blindness is a factor. For you, with your face, it should be a blessing."

"Fuck off. It's a factor, and so is his age, because he's innocent. He's fully reliant on his parents and asshole brother, and he doesn't even have friends, let alone any sexual experience."

"Jeez. You want that?"

"I don't know. He's hot. Really hot. I mean, he doesn't look seventeen. I'd always thought guys of that age were boys, but he's... He's a man. But if, and I mean if, I asked him on a date, I'd be his first date, first kiss...and I don't think I can do that to him."

"I love how you assume a date would end with a makeout session," she teases, moving my legs so she can sit down. "Anyway, you can do that to him, you just have to remember that there's a good chance he's just as interested in that happening as you are, and, if it goes well, there's no need for you to bail on him after."

"I'll think about it."

"If you're going to call, you need to do it now. Poor kid's been waiting a week. He probably thinks you're never going to make contact. And I'll bet Miss prissy pants thinks you should call, just to be polite."

"I can hear you!" Like a banshee on command, Rachel's voice comes bellowing through the front door and then suddenly there she is, glaring at Santana, smiling at me, and then heading to the fridge. "And yes I do think he should call. Hello, by the way. Work was hell. Kurt, I told you, even if you don't want to pursue this, just call him and say... You bitch! Quit drinking my shakes!"

"I'm not going to say that," I say, ducking out the way as Rachel smacks her purse on Santana's head. "But I could call, I guess, just to say hi."

It takes me another two days, but one afternoon, when I'm working from home and the girls are out, I dial.

"Hello?"

I don't know why I feel a sudden warmth on hearing Blaine's voice but I do, and I smile idiotically at the phone. "Hey. It's me."

"Sorry...who is this please?"

"Kurt!"

There's a moment of silence and then, when he answers, his voice is flat. "Kurt. Hi."

"Look, I'm sorry I haven't called. I..."

"It's fine," he says graciously. "I kinda guessed you wouldn't so I wasn't disappointed or anything. I certainly wouldn't want you to feel obligated."

"No, I..."

"I mean I understand, is what I'm trying to say. It was really nice, talking with you the other weekend, but I totally get why you wouldn't want to um... To follow it up in any way."

"Blaine? Can I talk a moment?"

"I'm sorry. Yes. Of course."

"I didn't call to make any lame excuses. I haven't called before because... Well, because I've been trying to resist you, but it turns out I can't stop thinking about you, so there's that, I guess."

My honesty astounds me, but it completely dumbfounds Blaine, who breathes in sharply and then slowly breathes out again, clears his throat twice and finally squeaks. "You...?"

"Hmm. Yeah. Tell me, how have you been? How are things with your brother?"

"I've been okay. Nothing out of the ordinary has happened. I've not been waiting for your call or anything."

I laugh, happy when he joins in too. "You've been moping, huh?"

"I have not!"

"That's not what I want to hear. I want to hear you've been crying over me. Pining."

"Kurt, you're the first guy who's ever asked for my number since...since... First person, in fact, other than my parents and brother. So when you didn't call? It hurt. But now you have called, so it's okay."

He ends his sentence sounding bright. So bright, in fact, that it takes a second for my brain to register that he didn't brush off my joke; he virtually admitted that he had cried over me.

Shit.

"Blaine?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm coming home this weekend. I was wondering if you wanted to do something?"

The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them and of course, afterward, after he'd eagerly accepted in a voice which made him sound about twelve, I had to call dad and inform him I was flying back.

"What for? You were only here ten days ago. That's a quick return, even for you."

"I know. I just... I might have a thing. Not a date! Well, not as such, more a day out thing..."

"Kurt."

"I think I have a date."

"With lemonade boy?"

It amuses me that dad still calls him lemonade boy even though he's aware of his name. It comforts me that he doesn't call him the blind kid, as Rachel had done once before I jumped down her throat and told her that didn't define him.

"Yes, with lemonade boy, Blaine."

"Kurt..."

"I know, I know. But I just... When I called he sounded so sad, but then..."

"Don't date him out of pity! Christ, you think he wants that? You think that's a healthy attitude to have?"

"I'm not! I asked him out because I can't get him off my mind and I want to know him some more, that's all."

"Well the tables are turned here, Kurt. I know I'm usually trying to protect you but this time I'm telling you, don't you dare hurt that kid, okay? He's been through enough."

"I know that. Look, I'm not expecting or hoping for anything to happen except for the two of us to spend a bit of time together. We genuinely enjoyed one another's company at the lake, and I'd like to do that again."

My dad sighs heavily, and I know that on the other end of the line, he's taking off his baseball cap and running a hand over his head in despair. "Just go careful."

I do heed his advice, and I think long and hard about where we could go during the daytime that might be fun, rather than something that screams 'this could be a date.' Dinner is out, and I'm not sure whether Blaine would enjoy the movies if all he can do is listen. Bowling is noisy... I seem to rule out every possibility with the result that, even as my plane touches down, I still have no idea what to suggest we do.

Following the directions I've been given, I pull up outside a grand and imposing house the following Saturday, check my hair quickly in the rear view mirror, and walk up the porch steps to knock. Before I can get there, though, the front door is pulled open, and Cooper steps outside.

"Kurt." He pulls himself up to his full height, in an effort, I guess to seem imposing, but I merely smile coldly.

"Cooper. I didn't realize you still lived with your parents."

It's a lie, of course. I know he doesn't live at home, Blaine told me, but even so, I know I've riled him.

"I don't. I live in Columbus. I just came over to see Blaine because mom and dad have concerns, that's all."

"Concerns? What concerns? Is he okay?"

"Concerns about you."

"What? Why?"

"Because you're hitting on my little brother," he spits. "And he's seventeen, and extremely vulnerable. The only reason I'm not coming with you today is because Blaine's absolutely begged me not to."

"Um... Okay, jerk," I snarl, losing my cool. "I don't know what you think my motives are here, but I can assure you, you're way off the mark. I wanted to see Blaine as a friend, nothing more, and who the hell drags their brother along when they go to meet their friends? You want my assurance that I won't try anything today? Because you can have it. I'll sign something, if you want. I'm just trying to form a friendship here, that's all."

"Cooper, let the man go," a deep voice says from inside, and then a man appears, whom I assume must be Blaine's father. I'm guessing the whole family must have these movie star looks, because Mr. Anderson must be in his fifties at least, given that Cooper is nearly thirty, but he looks damn good on it. His Italian heritage is clear, and it's obviously passed down to Blaine; the dark hair and eyes, the olive skin, and when he smiles, his has dimples that reflect his son's exactly.

"Marcus Anderson," he says, offering his hand. "I assume you must be Kurt. Come on in."

He is warm, friendly, and I follow him into a homey living room where I'm invited to take a seat. There's still no sign of Blaine. Instead, Mrs. Anderson appears, her light brown hair swept up elegantly, her blue eyes friendly and warm. Cooper seems to have inherited everything from her side, except the warmth.

"Kurt? I'm Lorna Anderson. It's lovely to meet you."

"Likewise." I smile, relaxing more each minute, and even managing to ignore the brooding, scowling Cooper in the corner of the room.

"Please forgive Cooper," Lorna says, kissing her son's cheek and dragging him over to a couch. "He's very protective of his baby brother. We all are, really. We're a close family, and with Blaine... Well, with Blaine's struggles, it's hard for us to let him go."

"Sure, I get that," I say, totally not getting it. Maybe now isn't the right time to bring up what Cooper said to Blaine the last time I saw them. "Like I said to Cooper just now, I can assure you I'm only here as a friend."

Out the corner of my eye, I'm suddenly aware of Cooper running a hand across his throat and it hits me; Blaine's parents don't know that he's gay. Oh shit.

"Why else would you be here?" Mr. Anderson says with a nervous laugh, and I don't miss the look he shares with his wife. "It's just a little...strange, maybe, that you'd befriend Blaine when you're ten years older, and that you'd actually fly back to New York to spend a day with him."

"Oh, no," I lie. "I didn't come back for that. I often fly back to visit my dad, but he's busy today, so I thought I'd see if Blaine was free, that's all."

"Kurt, are you..." Lorna stops herself, folding her hands neatly in her lap. "Never mind."

"Are you sure you can handle the responsibility of taking Blaine out for the day, is what Lorna is trying to ask," Marcus says, covering up. "Wouldn't it be easier to take Cooper with you? He knows all of Blaine's needs, what he can and can't do..."

"I'm sure he does, but I expect Blaine knows that too," I say, as sweetly as I can. "He's not a child."

"He is."

"He's not," I say, firmer this time. "He's seventeen, and, I expect, more than capable of going out places with his friends and speaking up for himself if he needs assistance with anything."

There's a silence that seems to stretch on and on, until eventually, Lorna gets to her feet. "I'll just go get him" she says quietly and then there's silence once more.

Several times, Marcus looks like he might be about to ask me something, but he doesn't, and then finally, there's footsteps on the stairs and I hear Lorna, talking to a baby.

"Careful now sweetie. Daddy put a couple of new pictures up on the wall here. We don't want any bumped heads!"

"It's fine, mom."

Oh. Not a baby, I realize. Blaine. Seventeen year old Blaine. Wow.

Hearing his voice, quiet, soft and gentle, does something peculiar to my insides that I can't ignore. It makes me get to my feet, and bite my lip to keep from breaking out in a huge grin when he walks into the room, dressed in navy shorts and a sunshine yellow polo shirt, with a navy bow tie at the neck and his dark glasses in place.

He looks cute, totally adorable and really, I'd like to spend the entire day cocooned around him if that were possible. Maybe that's why his parents are so protective.

"Hey."

"Hi." He gives a timid little wave, his cane dangling from the strap around his wrist. "I'm all set, I think. Unless I need anything specific?"

"No, just your good self," I say as brightly as possible, aware that Blaine's parents and Cooper are watching this interaction very carefully. "My car is across the end of the driveway. I take it you can find your way there?"

"Let me help you on the steps, sweetheart."

"Mom, stop fussing," Blaine says quietly, his cheeks turning red. "I'm fine. C'mon, Kurt."

He's out of the house so quickly that I have to hurry to keep up, saying a quick goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. Anderson as I go, and ignoring Cooper.

"Be home by six, Blaine!" Mr. Anderson calls from the steps.

"Six?" I ask as I pull the passenger door open for him. "For dinner, huh?"

"It's my curfew," he says miserably. "It always is."

I resist offering any assistance with Blaine's seatbelt; it's quite clear that he's entirely capable and also that he's pretty close to tears of frustration, which I can't blame him for. Instead, I drive in silence for a few minutes, then pull over into a coffee shop parking lot.

"So, let's decide where we're going, and then we can discuss your parents, huh?"

For a moment, he seems affronted, but then he smiles in that adorable way he has, and rubs the back of his neck. "Sure. Just tell me what you want to do. I'm fine with whatever."

"Here's the thing; I didn't know what you would be fine with, so I didn't plan anything. We're at the Lima Bean right now, so we could grab coffee, but after that, I don't know. Any ideas?"

"Kurt, honestly? I'm just happy to be spending a day with someone other than my immediate family, so I really don't mind."

"Well, we could... we could... I don't know. We could go back to mine, since dad's at work, but I don't want you to think that I'm..."

"I'd like that."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I'd feel more relaxed if it was just us."

"Want me to grab coffee to go?"

As if I've offered him a gift from the gods, Blaine smiles again, and leans back in his seat. "Yes please, thank you. Medium drip."


	4. Chapter 4

Blaine.

I know I'm a burden. I know, however much my parents would protest it, that caring for me is hard. Three years without sight, you'd think I would have gotten used to it, right? But the fact is, I really haven't.

Day to day, of course, I've learned to cope, but there's a lot I still find really tough. Shaving is just one example. I'm dark haired, thanks to my dad being Italian, so I need a close shave once a day to stay looking smart, which I like to do. I can't shave myself with a regular razor. Mom bought me an electric one but it doesn't go close enough, so now dad gets up earlier each morning to do it for me.

Then there's eating. I get self-conscious about going out for food, because I don't feel I can judge the distance from my cutlery to my mouth very well. Dad says no one notices tiny little errors, but I notice. I know I've stabbed my chin, or dribbled sauce down my shirt.

I need help with all manner of things; from needing rides everywhere, to not being able to work the stove without burning myself. I get scared in loud environments, I need help navigating the streets, or grocery store, or even just getting out of the car, sometimes. Hell, if we go to the football or baseball, I need my dad or Cooper to tell me exactly what's going on so yes, I know I'm a burden.

Even so, to hear those words coming out of my own brother's mouth hurt so much that for days afterwards, I couldn't breathe when I brought them to mind, which was often.

Right after he'd said it, hissed it, almost, there was the distraction of Kurt asking for my number. I reeled it off in a flat monotone, too hurt and upset to think about being happy at finding a new friend. Kurt told me he'd call, and the barely contained rage I detected in his voice made me nod stiffly and walk away before he or my brother landed a punch on the other one.

Cooper didn't say a word, just took my arm, steered me back to the car, and drove me home in silence. Once we were on the driveway, he killed the engine and then slammed his hand down on the steering wheel of the car.

"Fuck it!"

I jumped, of course, a reminder that I'm a pathetic and needy sissy.

"Look, Blaine, I'm sorry, okay? That was really... Really shitty of me and I'm sorry. It's just..."

"I know. You never did like dragging your kid brother along anyway. It must be even worse now."

"No, it's not, I swear. It's better, because you're mature, and able to hold a conversation with me, whereas when you were five and I was seventeen, being told to take you to the park to meet with my friends wasn't so great. I just... Sometimes... Sometimes it's hard. Really hard."

I nod. "It is for me too," I say quietly. "Living like this."

"Shit. I know."

"That's why I was so happy that Kurt wanted to sit with me. He enjoyed talking with me, Coop. He liked me."

"Why wouldn't he? You're amazing. You're also extremely good looking, Blaine, and I don't think you realize that. You don't look like a boy anymore, you look like a man, and I'm pretty sure that's what made the guy stop and talk with you."

"Actually, you're wrong," I say, puffing my chest out indignantly. "He thought you and I were...together, and he told me to have a good night."

"What?"

"Think about it. I didn't have my cane, and I was holding onto you the whole time."

"I don't like him."

A pause. I know what he's waiting to hear but this time, I'm not compliant. "Well, I do."

"You think he's gonna date you?"

"No," I scoff, because genuinely, I don't. I'm too young, he's made that clear, but some friendship would be nice. "I think we're going to keep in touch, maybe meet up for coffee... It'll give you, mom and dad a break from me, at least. You should be grateful."

"That's not what we want."

"It is. You said."

"I didn't mean it."

"I think you did, Cooper. You apologized, and I accept, but I still think you meant those words, because I'd mean them if I had to look after someone as needy as me."

By the time the morning arrives, mom is at my door, telling me, in that persuasive way she has, that I need to make it up to Cooper. He doesn't find it easy, I am reminded. He's saddled with guilt.

Well, I'm saddled with blindness, but that doesn't seem to get taken into account.

It's a long week, mainly because Kurt doesn't call. I'm not an idiot; I know he wasn't romantically interested in me, but I thought he'd enjoyed the weird flirty yet non-flirty thing we had going on, and I definitely thought he'd enjoyed talking with me, but his silence tells me otherwise.

Until he does call, that is, and my elation is quickly suppressed by the dread I feel at telling my parents that I'm going out on Saturday with someone they don't know. If I didn't have such a yearning to hear Kurt's voice again, to make him laugh, to just be with him, then I think I'd back out, but I desperately want to spend the day with him and so, that night after dinner, I tell them that I met a new friend at the lake, and that he'll be in town this weekend.

"Oh darling, I don't think you should be friends with boys who live in New York," mom says gently, as always. "He'll be much more...experienced."

"I know that. He's not a boy, anyway. He's ten years older than me. He just asked if I fancied hanging out."

"But you don't hang out with anyone," my dad points out, and he's right. Just saying those words out loud sounds false, alien, as if it's another person entirely, and one far more popular than I am.

"Well, I'd like to start," I say hopefully. "I mean, Cooper met him. He knows he's not some weirdo. And I need to have friends, right?"

"If Cooper's met him, then maybe he could go with you?" mom suggests. "That would make me feel better about it."

I know what they're getting at, what they're thinking, but this time, I won't back down. "No. I don't want Cooper tagging along," I say firmly. "I want to go out with Kurt on my own."

* * *

The second Kurt starts his car engine, I begin to relax. By the time he goes to get us coffee, I am grinning from ear to ear, with the freedom of it all, and the untold joy that being with Kurt brings.

I liked the hint of nervousness to his voice, how unsure he was of asking me back to his place. I like it, because for once, I feel like I'm on the same level as someone. We are both feeling our way in all this- literally, for me. We're both unsure of what to say, or do, and nobody is in command.

It's something I've been missing in my life for some time. My parents, and Cooper, are proving more and more insufferable. The problem, I realize, lies with me. I still need to rely on them for a lot of things, but at the same time, I want to start being a bit more independent. Before I went blind, I feel as though my rebellion was brewing. The accident put a stop to all that and I've been quiet, compliant Blaine, with no friends or outside interests, so my family are used to that. I've been the one who needs taking care of.

"So," Kurt says, announcing his return. "Shall we talk about the fact that you're not out to your parents, or the fact that your brother warned me off you, again, or the fact that your mom treats you like you're five?"

His bluntness makes me choke on my coffee, and when I've recovered, all I can manage to say is "I am out."

"Didn't seem that way to me."

"No, I... ugh. Okay. Two weeks before the accident, I told my parents and Cooper that I was gay. They weren't mad, or upset, or unaccepting. They listened and then, when I was done, my dad suggested it might be a phase, that maybe I was confused."

"But you weren't."

"No, I wasn't, and I never have been. I've just always known. Of course, my parents being the way they are, none of this was shouted, or said unkindly, it was all meant to be as caring as can be, but I was adamant. I yelled, for the first time ever, and told them they had to accept the way I was. Their well-meaning solution to the problem was to have me spend more time with Cooper, and less time with my school friends, who might be influencing me."

"And that's..."

"How come I was with him when the crash happened, yes. He was always being asked to take me places, out with his friends, out on dates...poor guy. Now he has to do even more with me in tow. It's no wonder he resents me."

"Well, I don't think that's just cause, but continue."

"So, three, maybe four months after the accident, my dad just happens to mention that he's glad the gay thing has passed. I told him it hadn't passed, that being blind didn't change anything, and I guess we got into our first real fight. He was insisting that since I couldn't see, I couldn't be attracted to only males or only females, because it didn't matter. I was just yelling, over and over, that I'm gay and he needs to accept that, and then I finally um..."

I feel Kurt's eyes on me. "You finally what?"

"Keep your eyes on the road, please."

"How the hell? Fine. You finally what?"

"I ended the fight by telling him that I didn't need to see to know that I'd rather suck cock than eat pussy."

"Holy SHIT, Blaine, warn a guy!" Kurt's outraged screech is followed by the most raucous laughter, and I really can't help but join in. I've never told anyone what I said that day; there's no one to tell, for a start, and mom told me I must never mention it again. He's still laughing when we pull up, I assume, at his house, but he finally calms, drinks some more of his coffee, then carefully reaches out, his fingers just grazing my knee.

"Hey."

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry for you," he says, so sincerely it brings a lump to my throat. "No one should feel devalued like that, or like their feelings don't matter. However well-meaning your parents are, and seriously, they're ultra polite, they owe it to you to recognize that you're capable of knowing your own mind...which is filthy dirty, clearly."

"It is not!" I laugh, shaking my head. "It's the only time I've ever said anything like that. I was just trying to get through to him. I failed."

"Yeah, well, you got through to me alright," he murmurs, opening his door. "Holy hell."

I don't reply; in fact, neither of us mention it at all, but the fact that my words have made Kurt possibly feel...something, makes my heart race and my stomach flip over in the best possible way.

"My place," he says brightly when I step from the car. "Or dad's place, I guess. Do you want to hold onto me, or does your magic stick guide you?"

"It uh... Well, it's not magic, it gives me a frame of reference, you know, how wide doorways are, or if there's something in the way. But if I could..."

"Sure."

In all honesty, I probably could manage, but it's nice, to hold onto Kurt's arm as we walk down a path together then up one, two, three steps to a porch.

"So I'll explain the layout," Kurt rambles as we step inside. "This is the hallway. Stairs ahead of you on your left, and the dining room. On the right is the living room, kitchen at the end of the hall."

He leads me down and I hear a ticking clock as we walk into the room. "Bathroom is second door on the left in here. First door is the basement so please, ask me to show you the way if you're unsure. If you fall down those stairs you won't get back up. Wanna sit out on the back porch? I know it's hot, but there's a canopy. If it gets too warm we can come back inside."

We head out there, and Kurt leads me to a swing. Though it's a strange sensation at first, I quite like sitting there with him, slowly rocking back and forth. "Are you near a forest?"

"Yeah, this yard backs onto it. How did you know?"

"I can hear loads of birds. Actually, they're louder than normal. There might be a storm later."

"Okay, how the hell do you work that out?"

"Because birds are always noisy before a storm. They go quiet right before it hits though."

"You can predict weather from birdsong? If I call you from New York, can you tell me if I should take a jacket to work?"

"There aren't any birds in New York," I say smugly. "Well, there are, but they can't be heard."

"True."

"That's one thing I regret, actually. That I'll never see it."

"New York? You can visit. I could... well, anyway, you can't let being blind stop you."

"I know, but I won't see it, will I? I can hear it, smell it, touch it, but I can't see it. Those incredible views... Central Park, Statue of Liberty..."

"You'll experience other things," Kurt says softly. His hand covers mine and though the sudden contact startles me, I don't pull away. "You have so much ahead of you, Blaine. College, first job, getting your own place, exploring the world. I mean sure, sight helps, but not having it doesn't mean you can't do any of that stuff."

"I don't know. I always wanted to go to college someplace really exciting, you know? Chicago, New York, Boston... but mom says it'll be better to go in state. I was thinking of Columbus; living at home the first year and then rooming with Cooper, maybe?"

"I think that's dumb," Kurt declares. "Well, not dumb if that's what you really want to do, but I don't think it is. You've gotta step out on your own at some point, you know."

"I know that, but I don't think I can."

"I think you can do so much more than you think you can," he tells me, squeezing my hand. "You've just got to learn how to fly."


	5. Chapter 5

Kurt.

Blaine is a complex mystery, I decide, as I fix us both some lemonade and a sandwich. One minute he's quietly introverted, the next he's downright hilarious. Then he's so afraid of so much, yet so brave in so many other ways. There seems to be a lot holding him back; his lack of sight, obviously, but also Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, and Cooper. Their well-meaning intentions have only suffocated Blaine so that he can't escape, and as a result, he's scared of so many things that he should actually be excited about.

Cooper's gone up in my estimation since Blaine told me he's the only one who has fully accepted him being gay, but even so, it's obvious that the constant pressure put on him to look after his little brother, coupled with the guilt he feels over the accident, has put an enormous strain on their relationship.

Right here, right now, I know that Blaine is happy and relaxed. He flinched when I held his hand a little, but he didn't pull away, and he's opening up more, telling me his thoughts and feelings. He's intelligent, warm, sweet, funny, and so stunningly beautiful it almost hurts to look at him.

I do look at him, of course. It'd be rude not to. Oh, but he was blessed with a truly stunning face. I watch him now, still rocking back and forth, waiting for me to return. All the worry I'd had over where to go and what to do was needless, since this suits both of us. For me, it's a welcome break from meeting friends in noisy bars or restaurants and for him...well, for him it's just a chance to be away from his family for a few hours. All I've got to do now, is not kiss him, since I promised myself I wouldn't. That might be easier said than done.

"Okay, food," I announce. I've worked out that calling out before I appear next to him works best.

"Do you have a pool?"

"Yes, why? Don't tell me you can hear that as well?"

"A little," he says with a smile. "But the breeze just picked up and I could smell the water."

"Supersonic hearing, a heightened sense of smell... What's your superhero name?"

"Blaine the Blind."

"That's ridiculous," I say, prodding him. "You can do better than that. Anyway yes, we do have a pool. My mom always wanted one, but we couldn't afford it. So then, when I was sixteen, my dad's mom died, and left everything to him. We didn't want to move since we both love this house, so we decided to fulfill one of mom's wishes, and build a pool."

"Your mom died?"

"Hmm, yeah. I was four."

"Kurt, I'm so sorry."

This time he reaches for my hand and God, it feels so welcome, so wanted, so needed, that I squeeze his fingers tightly. "Could be worse."

"Um...not really. Unless your dad had died too."

"Blaine!"

"Sorry." He giggles, and I realize he's finding his way with me, or maybe we're finding our way together. It seems we both like saying things to shock the other, and make them laugh.

"Is it big?"

"The pool?"

He blushes hard. "Yes, Kurt. The pool."

"Bigger than average, I'd say."

He laughs again, and shakes his head. "I've got nothing."

"I'll walk you around it, come on. You don't need your cane," I say when he reaches for it. "Here."

He reaches out and I take his hand in mine, lacing our fingers together. "Okay. Five steps down."

"Don't put me on the side with the water," he suddenly says. "I don't want to fall."

"You won't. I'll keep you safe. Okay. This is the shallow end, and it's a half circle shape each end, in case you think I'm taking you the wrong way."

"Okay. You uh... You don't need to hold my hand," he says shyly. "I can hold your arm."

"Yeah you can, but I'm good with this if you are?"

"Sure."

He says it lightly, but I'm pretty sure his heart is racing as much as mine right now, and all from simply holding hands. This is different.

We walk the perimeter of the pool in silence and I'd lay money on the fact that, like me, Blaine is thinking about how our hands fit together so well, how it all feels so natural.

"It's a very impressive pool," he says when we're back on the porch. "Very...large."

"Thank you. We can go in it later, if you want?"

"I don't have any swim shorts."

"I can loan you some."

He stiffens and bites his lip. "No thank you."

"Okay. Here, eat your sandwich."

I pass him the plate but he merely picks at the edge of his bread and doesn't actually eat anything at all. "Is it... Um... Did you want something different?"

"No, it's fine."

"It's clearly not. Blaine? Please say."

He tilts his face down, as if he were focused on his plate, and I notice one tear escape, which he quickly wipes away. I'm on my knees before I know it, setting his plate down and taking his hands in mine. "Okay, I'm in danger of going full on mom with you in a moment, so please tell me what's wrong?"

"I um... I don't want to eat in front of you. It's something I get really self-conscious about and with you it's just even worse."

"Oh." I think for a moment. "But you are hungry?"

"Okay," I say when he nods. "Sit down here a moment. And then I'll sit here, with my back against yours, and we'll eat. I won't look, and you'll know if I peek because you'll feel,my back move. Drink your lemonade too. It's so hot, you need something."

He obliges without a word; I sense this is because he can't say anything rather than he doesn't want to, so I make it my mission to make him feel better. "Wanna know something?" I push on without waiting for his answer. "My dad, and my roommates, call you lemonade boy, because when I first saw you, you were at the lemonade stand, and I didn't know your name. So I kinda mentally applied that to you, and then they took it up."

"I didn't know I was at the lemonade stand though," he points out. "Oh but hey, that could be my superhero name."

"That's marginally better than Blaine the Blind," I say, laughing.

"Sandwich is good."

"I'm glad."

"Kurt?"

"Yeah?"

"I really want to go in the pool."

I smile, grateful for a moment that he can't see. "Sure."

"I don't swim often," he admits. "Unless we're on vacation. Public pools scare me."

"They scare me too, though probably not for the same reasons. But that's cool. I'm more than happy to keep you close by."

"Is that..." His back still turned, I hear him set his plate down and then I feel him take a deep breath. "Are you maybe...flirting, a little?"

"Uh...I don't know. Yes, maybe? Not intentionally. I just... I really... Ah, you've got me all tongue tied now!" I cry, getting to my feet. "I just liked holding your hand, that's all."

I all but run into the kitchen with our plates, throwing them into the dishwasher and then leaning back against the counter, breathing hard. For a moment, I think about sneaking off to call Rachel and freaking out a little, but then I look outside, to where Blaine is pulling himself back into the swing again, and my feet carry me outside.

"Tell me about your job," he says when I sit. "Did you study fashion at college?"

I tell him everything, from the tortuous bullying I suffered in high school for being gay and liking clothes, to finally finding myself at college studying fashion and journalism. I tell him of Santana and Rachel, how they moved from Lima too, and offered me a room when I'd graduated and didn't have a job. Most of all though, I tell him about my dad, how he taught me to stand up for myself, to have the courage of my convictions and, in his own words, to "mentally give the middle finger to anyone who doesn't approve of your choices."

Blaine listens, smiles in all the right places and then, at the end, he says "You're incredible."

"I don't know about that."

"I do."

"What do you want to study at college?"

"Music. I'd like to teach little kids, but... Well, it won't happen. Still, I'd like to do my music degree and see where it takes me."

"You said you played piano?"

"Well remembered. Yes, I do, and guitar."

"Play for me sometime?"

"Depends if you want to see me again after today, doesn't it?"

"I do."

"Then yes," he says, a grin breaking out across his beautiful face. "I will. Can we go in the pool now?"

"Of course. Come inside, I'll grab some shorts."

I show Blaine into the downstairs bathroom, while I race upstairs to get changed as quick as possible. When I return he's standing in the kitchen, wearing the shorts, his glasses, and also his shirt, though the bow tie is folded up with his pants over the edge of the bath.

"You want sunscreen?"

"If you have some but um... Kurt... I need to warn you, really, when I take my shirt off..."

"I'll swoon?"

"Hardly. I have pretty bad scars. Here," he says, and he lifts the left leg of his shorts to reveal a long scar running from just above his knee, disappearing right the way up his thigh. "And here." He points to another on his ankle. "But my torso is worse, Cooper says."

"Who cares? I'm not looking at your chest," I say gallantly, but the way Blaine raises one eyebrow behind his glasses tells me he's seen right through the lie. "Okay, so maybe I am, a bit... But honestly, Blaine... Just... Be you. That's good enough for me. That's why I'm here, because I like you, the person, and I enjoy your company."

Despite my talk, his hands still shake as he carefully unbuttons his shirt, and once it's off, I feel like I should look away- only I can't. A large semi-circular scar runs from the back of his left shoulder, down almost to his elbow and then back up to the front. There's another line just under his collarbone, and a long line running right the way down the center of his chest, with a smattering of dark hair making it stand out even more. Three more lines run across his left side, under his ribs, over his stomach and then following the line of his hip bone and disappearing lower.

I know I gasp, and I know he's heard it when he hugs his arms across himself, hunching over. "No, no," I say, quickly stepping forward. "I'm sorry. I was staring, and it was a shock, but that's passed now, I swear."

"You were staring?"

"Well, it is pretty bad," I say weakly. "But now? When we're talking? I'm looking at your face, Blaine, because I don't think you have any idea how beautiful you are, inside and out. Your scars don't define you, neither does your blindness, or your love for bow ties. What defines you is what's in here."

I place my hand on his chest but instead of leaping backwards, or running away, he covers it with his own, holding me in place. "What color are your eyes?"

"Blue," I whisper, helplessly lost in this moment.

"Uh-uh. Not just blue. Tell me, what color are they?"

"I like my eyes," I admit. "Because my mom used to tell me they sparkled. My grandma often says they're just like mom's were, but I don't remember. She says they're blue mixed with green, like the ocean when it's calm and the sun shines on it. You know how it glistens?"

"I do."

"So like that, I guess. Greenish blue, and sparkly."

I wait, wondering what Blaine is going to do next. The moment is impossibly charged. I'm twenty seven, and falling apart in my dad's kitchen because Blaine is holding my hand over his chest. Who knew that describing eye color could be so damn erotic?

"Swim with me," he eventually says, and I come to life, leading him out to the pool, our hands entwined as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "I have to take my glasses off. Don't be alarmed, okay? Because it can seem weird. When I have the glasses on it can seem like I'm looking at you, but without them you'll realize my eyes wander and never really fix on your face."

"Well that's rude," I quip. "You should... Oh!"

"What?"

"Your eyes are incredible."

Blaine is right; they do move, and then seem to fix on something far away, and not quite on my face, but they are the most mesmerizing color I've ever seen. Not quite brown, not hazel. Warmer than honey but softer than amber. They're sensational.

I tell him, of course, but he brushes the compliment off, telling me they're just useless, and then he carefully walks over to the edge of the pool.

"Sunscreen, mister."

"Actually, I don't need it," he says, tilting his head up. "That storm is coming in. It's clouding over."

He's right, of course, and as I carefully lead Blaine down into the water, the sun disappears from view. "That was bad timing."

"We can still swim though, right?"

"Of course. Show me what you can do."

"What if I hit my face at the other end?"

I frown, flicking water at him. "Don't be silly. You'll hit your arm, won't you? Anyway, so what if you do hit your face? You'll survive. Now quit being a baby. You'll get no sympathy from me."

"I noticed," he grouches, but he flicks water back at me, and smiles. "Here goes."

For someone who doesn't swim much, Blaine has a gift. He is smooth and graceful in the water, far better than I am, and he swims six laps before stopping right in front of me, pushing his wet hair out of his eyes. "I like it."

"So do I. And yeah, that was flirting. Sorry."

"Don't be."

We swim up and down together on our backs, slowly, finding plenty to talk about as I gaze up at the ever darkening sky.

"Here it comes," he murmurs next to me. "Listen, the birds have stopped."

A rumble of thunder proves his point and then the rain starts; massive, fat drops that bounce onto the surface of the water.

"Let's go in."

"No...let's not," Blaine says, then flips onto his front and dives under the water.

We're back in the shallow water and I stand, letting the rain splash over me as I lean against the side and wait for him to surface. Suddenly, a pair of hands grab my ankles, moving up to my thighs, hips, wrists and finally my shoulders and Blaine stands there, inches from my face.

He holds up the fingers of his right hand, close to my cheek as the rain gets harder still. "Can I? I want to feel what you look like."

I'm powerless. Right now, all I want is his hands on me. "Yes."

The thunder rolls again, and in the back of my mind I know we should leave the pool, but then Blaine's fingers gently graze my cheek and I forget about anything else.

His touch is gentle, hesitant, yet explorative. He brings his other hand up, running them both up to my temples, along my forehead, then down to my eyebrows, eyes, and nose. He misses my lips but travels out to my ears, then down along my jawline. All the time, my heart is beating so fast and so loud that I'm sure Blaine can hear it, but then, when I cast my eyes downward for a moment, I can see his own chest fluttering, his breathing hitching with anticipation.

His left hand moves back until his fingers slide into my hair, with his thumb resting tenderly against my ear. The fingers on his right hand trail, ever so carefully, over my lips and I know, no matter how many faces he's explored in this way before, he's never touched anyone else as intimately as this.

"Stunning," he decides in a whisper. And then he brings his lips to mine.


	6. Chapter 6

Kurt.

Blaine's lips are soft as they graze gently over mine. He presses slightly firmer but then pulls back, and I open my eyes to find his still closed, a small smile playing on his face.

"I don't think I'm brave enough for more," he whispers with a little laugh.

"That's okay, neither am I."

And it's the truth. My heart feels like it might just beat right out of my chest, and all I can see right now is Blaine's face before me, looking happier than I've ever seen him. I want to take this moment and preserve it forever because it's perfect, uncluttered, uncomplicated, innocent and sweet.

As first kisses go, I guess it's not the most explosive, but it's definitely the most intimate for me, and much more profound than any moment I've ever shared with anyone. We stay there, with Blaine's left hand carefully cradling my face, his other resting on my shoulder. My arms encircle his waist, bringing him just a touch closer and he seems to appreciate it, resting his forehead against mine.

The massive clap of thunder startles us both, but I merely pull Blaine flush to my chest, the rain pelting down on us both, and I ignore the crack of lightning in favor of placing a gentle kiss to his shoulder.

"What the hell are you morons doing in the pool?"

If anyone can bring me back to reality, it's my dad, and Blaine leaps backward so fast he nearly loses his footing.

"There's a raging thunderstorm, in case you haven't noticed," dad yells from the porch. "Get inside!"

"In a minute."

" _Now_ , Kurt. It's not safe to be in a pool when lightning strikes."

I reach for Blaine's hand, signalling to dad that he needs to go back in the house. "Sorry."

"I'll go," he says, shaking head to toe. "It's fine."

"You don't need to go. It's only my dad."

"He _barks_ , Kurt."

I laugh, helping him out of the pool and over to the porch. "It's worse than his bite. He's a softie. Please stay? He'd like to meet you, and I'm not ready to say goodbye yet."

He bites his lip, clutching onto the towel I place around his shoulders. "I want to, but..."

And suddenly I'm seized with sadness, and a desperation for him not to leave. Not for any other reason than I just adore being in his presence. That's a new one on me.

"Blaine, listen. You've just given me the most incredible moment, and I'm still full of... I don't know... Just... Full of emotion, I guess, over that kiss. I don't know how to define it, and I'm not even sure I want to but please, don't run away just because my dad's here. Come inside, we can get dressed and then take refuge in my room, if you want."

"I don't know what I'm doing Kurt," he whispers sadly. "I don't know what this is."

"Neither do I, but I know that it feels wonderful."

Blaine smiles at this, and reaches out, his hand closing over mine where it holds my towel at my chest. "I like that I don't need to ask if you mean that. I can tell, from your voice."

"Good."

"Is your dad watching us?"

"I want to say no, but probably, yeah. Why, you gonna kiss me again?"

He steps back. "Not now, no."

"Ha! Come on, come say hi."

Dad is indeed lurking by the kitchen window, pretending to look out over the yard at the rain. He feigns surprise when we step inside, even though we've just walked in front of the window, and he sets his mug down, wiping his hands on his jeans.

"Hey. Blaine, is it? Good to meet ya, kid. Can I shake your hand?"

Blaine nods meekly, offers his hand and then nearly falls over when my dad pumps it. "Nice to meet you," he says.

"Ah, it's not really though, is it? Meeting the parents on a first date? Bit nerve-wracking, to say the least."

"Kurt met mine this morning."

"Did he now?" Dad turns to me and raises one eyebrow.

"Yes I did, and they're a damn sight politer than you are."

"I'm polite! Blaine, did you get hit by that lightning?"

"N-no."

"Oh. It's just that your hair looks like you've been electrocuted."

"Dad! Stop it. God, Blaine, I'm sorry. Ignore him."

But surprisingly, Blaine laughs and runs a hand through his rapidly curling hair. "Well at least I don't have to look at it, I guess."

"Ha! I like you," dad decides, and that's that. "Call me Burt."

Blaine shrugs. "Okay. Call me lemonade boy. Oh, wait. You already do."

At this, my dad laughs hard, and claps an arm about Blaine's shoulders. If he's startled, it doesn't show. "I definitely like you. Stay for dinner."

"Oh! I can't. My curfew is six. In fact, I don't even know what time it is. We lost track."

"Yeah, I'll bet you did. It's five."

Blaine turns in my direction, the anguish clearly written on his face. "I need to go. Mom will worry, and I..."

"I'll call them," dad declares. I'd like to say he offers, or suggests, but it's neither of those things, it's simply what he is now going to do, whether anyone likes it or not. "Introduce myself, tell them you two are busy making out, and you're staying for dinner."

"Don't say that!"

"I'm just messing with ya. But I will call them. I don't want Kurt driving in this anyway. Stay for dinner and the storm will have passed."

Blaine clearly realizes he has no choice, so he dutifully hands his phone over. Dad walks away, and pretty soon we hear his booming voice in the dining room, telling the Anderson's that he thinks it would be safest for Blaine to stay here for dinner and that he'll make sure he gets home safely by ten.

"Ten? My mom will freak out. I bet she'll send Cooper to come get me."

"She won't, because dad won't let her."

"But eating, Kurt. I told you."

"Blaine trust me, my dad will be firmly focused on his food. He ignores everyone at the dinner table."

"He's nice. Funny."

"He's the best. Now, get dressed. We've got five more hours to kill. You wanna take a shower?"

The double take from Blaine is brilliantly comical, as is the blush that follows as he realizes I didn't mean it like it sounded. "That's... For a minute I thought..."

"I know you did, but no. Not that it isn't an enticing thought, but..."

"Kurt!"

"What? You're hot, I can't help it. But I'll stop. I promised myself I wouldn't so much as kiss you today, and you blew that right out of the water."

"I kissed you," Blaine says, and I detect a hint of pride. "So it doesn't count."

"That's true. So...if you kissed me again... That would be okay."

Blaine grins. "Good. Maybe I will."

But it's not right now, I realize as he carefully feels his way along the counter until he finds a door.

"Basement."

"Damn."

"Next one over. Here, let me get the shower going for you. It can be a bit temperamental."

It's not, but I don't want Blaine worrying about anything, so I make sure there's shampoo and soap within reach, and plenty of towels before I head upstairs to take my own shower. Just as I'm done, there's a knock on my bedroom door and dad opens it, with Blaine on his arm.

"Lemonade delivery," he quips, then shuts the door behind himself. "Dinner at seven!"

"Are we alone in your room?"

"Yeah, why?"

"No reason. It's just... My parents would freak out if they knew."

I carefully guide him to the bed and he sits on the very edge, poised as if he's about to run from me at any second. "Well, to be fair, when I was seventeen I don't think my dad would have been too happy, but I've got ten years on you. Plus, I think he senses that we're not really rushing into things."

"I can't, Kurt. I just can't."

I sit next to him, unable to resist raking my fingers through his hair, now nearly dry. It's soft, smooth, and the curls wind around my fingers. I feel the raised scar underneath, the reminder of all Blaine has been through, everything that's made him the intriguing, incredible person before me.

"I don't want you to rush," I tell him honestly. "Please. I'm hopeless at this kind of stuff. The second I like someone, I get paranoid that I might be too clingy, or not clingy enough. Too sarcastic, or not humorous enough, too moody, too happy... The list goes on. Basically, I always end up running away. But I don't want to. Not this time. Not with you. I really can't resist you, but I want to take my time too. Baby, baby steps. Please."

Blaine nods, and I can see him thinking it over, his eyes wandering as he drifts off some place else. "Your dad said you're mooning over me. He said he can tell because you have a dippy smile and your eyes are all big and wide, like this."

He opens his eyes super wide, making me laugh. "I don't think I look quite that bad but yeah, I'm pretty...smitten, I guess. I think dad probably knows things that we haven't even realized ourselves, yet."

"Like what?"

"Come here," I say, ignoring his question. "Let me hold you."

He feels his way across the bed to where I'm leaning back against the pillows, but instead of sitting next to me, he lies down, tugging me down next to him so we're on our sides facing each other. He doesn't seem to know what to do next, and that wonderfully, beautifully expressive face, and those incredible eyes, are full of fear that he might be doing this all wrong.

"Kiss me," I say softly, my hands resting on his chest. "Please, Blaine. All I want is for you to kiss me again."

He doesn't reply, but slowly his fingers trace along my jawline until they find my lips. I'm not entirely sure he needs to do this, but I can't deny that it's incredibly sensual, and the time Blaine takes over one kiss makes me feel valued, wanted, like I'm the most important star in the galaxy.

By the time his lips touch mine, carefully, again, I'm unable to hold back a moan of satisfaction. Okay, so Blaine probably thinks I'm weird, but his touch makes me weak. It's so careful, so considered, and given so honestly that it could make me cry.

He holds my chin and kisses me again. This time, he's bold enough to open his mouth slightly and I resist the urge to devour him. Blaine asked to take this slowly, I need to take this slowly, and that's exactly what we're going to do. Besides, I wouldn't trade this for the world.

His kiss lingers, then fades away, until my eyes flutter open and I see him smiling again.

"I..."

But he cuts me off, moving back in for more. It's enough for now, and after another, slightly open mouthed kiss, he loses his nerve, breaking away and resting his head into the crook of my neck.

Wrapping my arms around him, I roll onto my back with a contented sigh. He curls into me, his arm resting over my stomach, hand on my heart.

"Are you okay?"

"Hmm." I grin up at the ceiling and hold him a little tighter. "I'm more than okay."

"Your heart is racing. Is that like...a medical thing?"

"No, Blaine. You did that. Your kisses."

"Oh." He cuddles closer.

It's my dad's booming yell that wakes us, and I can't recall the last time I just slipped into sleep like that. I'm disorientated when I wake, but Blaine is there, quiet, calm and steady, and I place a kiss to his temple, nuzzling against him.

"It's dinner time."

"Eating," he says morosely. "I can't."

"You can," I encourage, but there's a firmness to my voice. "You can't spend your whole life hidden away, can you? What about mealtimes at college? What do you do now, at school?"

"I eat alone, in the medical room. The nurse lets me."

"Blaine, that's... Okay. Come on. Dinner."

I know he's terrified, and I do feel sad for him, but I know he has to do this, has to start getting past these mental blocks he's set in place. As a sighted person, I don't recall ever sitting and staring at someone as they ate, and I'm pretty sure, given how neat Blaine is, that he's not going to be truly awful at it.

"Pizza," dad informs us when we arrive in the kitchen. "Thought we could eat in the living room, watch some baseball." He stops himself and pulls a face. "Sorry, Blaine."

"No it's fine. I like to listen, anyway."

I have no idea if that's true, but I know Blaine realizes, as I do, that having the TV on will give my dad an even greater distraction. And Blaine does eat- one slice to my three, and dad's five, but he is, as I suspected, an incredibly polite eater, and obviously over-cautious about making any mess.

My dad rambles on about whatever's happening on the screen, providing a running commentary of the game over the top of the actual commentary, and telling Blaine inane things such as what colors the other team is wearing. Blaine listens intently, and so do I, for about ten seconds, but then I take Blaine's hand in mine, rest my head onto his shoulder and think about how wonderful life is.


	7. Chapter 7

Burt.

Today, I arrived home from work to find Kurt in the pool, with some kid pressed against him. I had to yell, because that's a damn stupid place to be in a thunderstorm, but for a moment I stood watching them, because I'd never seen my boy look more content.

The kid is just that, a kid, except he's kind of remarkable. Not just because he's blind. I mean sure, he's overcome a lot and I admire his resilience, but what intrigues me about him is the quiet, meek calmness he has, which hides a steely, strong interior. I know it's there, lurking, because I saw it in the flashes of humor he showed.

I like him. I've met a few of Kurt's boyfriends and I've not been overly bothered by any of them. Nice enough, but with Blaine it's different. Blaine is a kid I'd like to actually see more of, which is good, since Kurt is in love with him.

He doesn't know it yet, and Blaine certainly doesn't know it, but those two are falling headfirst and they're both powerless to stop it.

The boy's parents are strange, well, the dad is. I didn't speak to the mom. He was adamant that Blaine's curfew is six. Why? He's not a pre-schooler. When I questioned it, his dad said Blaine liked it that way, he likes to be home safe and sound every evening.

Looking at him sitting on my couch this evening, shyly holding Kurt's hand, I'd say it won't be long before he wants to be with Kurt each and every evening, instead.

It won't be easy for either of them. Blaine's dad didn't say, but I get the impression they don't know he's gay, so that's gonna be the first bomb shell. Then there's the age gap, the distance, and the fact that the Anderson's seem so unbearably overprotective that it's going to be nearly impossible for Blaine to have a normal, adult relationship.

I'd stay out of it, since how other people choose to parent their kids is no concern of mine...except somehow, for some reason, I want Blaine to be my concern, too.


	8. Chapter 8

Blaine.

Right now, the whole world is spinning. Normally that would frighten me, but Kurt is here, holding my hand (literally) and so I'm content to be thrown about and shaken up. In fact, I quite like it.

Today is the best day I've had since I lost my sight. It might possibly be the best day ever, because I finally found it within myself to kiss a guy. Actually, I've never had the urge before. I mean, I've wanted to, but I've never met anyone with whom that would or could be a possibility, until Kurt.

Kurt is magnificent. He gets me, and I think I get him. He's funny, and blunt, and rude... All the things he tells his dad not to be, but he's also caring and tender, and clearly just as terrified as I am, which is good.

I wasn't planning on kissing him. I never thought that after a few hours in his company I'd be relaxed enough to ask to touch his face, let alone actually touch my lips to his. And yes, that's all I did, that first time, but that moment will stay with me as long as I live.

My first kiss.

Perhaps the most shameful part of it all is not that I didn't have the courage to kiss him as deeply as I would have liked, but the fact that afterward, after I'd met Burt and found myself feeling strangely relaxed and happy to meet someone new, and after Kurt and I had a moment in the kitchen, where he basically asked me to kiss him again... I found myself so wildly turned on that I couldn't actually leave the bathroom for quite some time after my shower.

The very real hint of possibility, the knowledge that this could progress with Kurt to something real, had me unable to deny that part of me which I try so hard to ignore. I hear kids at school, the guys on the dodgeball team and, if they're to be believed, then masturbation is entirely natural and something to be indulged in at least five times a week, but I've always been too ashamed to let my mind wander like that.

I can't ask Cooper; we might be close but we're not close in that sense, and of course, if I ever found it within myself to talk to dad about it, I know he'd be wondering whether I think of girls or guys when I do it.

So I ignore any feelings of lust, or wanting, or desire, and try instead to think of a purely innocent romance, where I might one day have a 'companion' as those old fashioned romance novels always say.

I've read a lot of those. The Braille selection at our local library isn't really aimed at seventeen year old gay guys.

But it's hard to ignore desires when all I can think about is the feel of Kurt's face under my fingertips, the touch of his lips, the brief taste I got when I dared to open my mouth and oh, the way his heart was racing, just like mine, and he told me my kisses had made that happen.

I spend most of the evening sitting on the couch with a cushion over my lap, because Kurt is holding my hand and my body, still rampant with teenage hormones that haven't quite settled down, cannot be trusted.

It gets worse when we're alone in the car, in the dark, after we've said goodbye to Burt, whom I'd like to think of as a friend, except he's Kurt's dad so that's probably weird.

Kurt drives in silence, his hand resting just above my knee, as if he doesn't want to stop touching me now that he knows he can. I like it, and I'm starting to sense when he's about to do it, so I don't flinch.

"I'm gonna pull over," he announces. "We're right around the corner from your place, but I want to say goodnight properly, and I don't think that can happen outside your house, can it?"

"That depends," I say, as flirty as I can be. "If you just mean say goodnight then..."

"You know I don't."

"Kurt, today has been amazing."

"Yeah, it's been pretty special." He pauses and I wait, knowing he's working out what he wants to say. "Blaine?"

"Yes?"

"I know we never classified this as a date, but I think, in my mind, even though I didn't want to admit it, it was a date, and it's been the best first date ever, so thank you."

"Our first date." Saying those words out loud, in the confines of the car, makes me bubble up with pleasure inside. "Will there be a second, maybe? Next time you're home?"

"Well you know, I don't fly back until tomorrow evening so if you're free..."

"Yes."

"I'll come by about ten?"

"Sounds perfect."

"Good."

The silence stretches on, and I don't know if he's waiting for me to say something, or what, because I can't see, so I just sit there.

"Oh fuck it," he suddenly says, and then he's straddling me, tilting my face up to his. "I have to," he murmurs as he leans in. "I just have to."

Kurt is obviously more experienced than I but he's still cautious, kissing me softly, chastely, until my hands fist his shirt at the small of his back, and push him closer. Then, he opens his mouth and I follow, praying I'm doing it right. All I really know is it feels incredible, to be firmly in his control, getting kissed by a man who can't get enough of me.

There's no hiding my rapidly growing hardness, since Kurt is sitting right on top of me, but he doesn't seem to care. In fact, he presses his groin down, and kisses me harder. I find myself responding entirely naturally, kissing back fiercely, and when his tongue runs across my lower lip, I groan in pleasure.

He breaks the kiss but I get the feeling that, like me, he's coming undone, and he'd like to continue. Finding the back of his neck, I pull him down again, daring to taste with my tongue, and enjoying the response I get from Kurt, who grips my hair tightly.

Since losing my sight, I've appreciated touch a whole lot more, but I never imagined how incredible it would feel to have someone touching _me_ like this, wanting me, needing me.

"Holy crap I have to stop!" Kurt suddenly cries, making himself pull back.

I can't find an answer. Instead, I just sit there, grinning.

"Sorry," he says, pressing his forehead against mine. "I just think you're worth treasuring, that's all."

"Smooth."

"Hey! It's the truth!" He laughs, climbing back into his own seat. Really though, he's right. It is worth savoring, because it's sublime.

When we get to my place Kurt kisses me quickly on the cheek but doesn't escort me to my door. I'm glad. He makes me do things myself, to prove that I can, and I think it's the first time I've ever walked up the path to this house on my own.

Mom opens the door before I can. I know it's her because of the way the door handle turns; hurriedly, anxiously. "Sweetheart!"

"Hey mom."

"You're late."

"Huh? Kurt said it was nine thirty."

"It is. I mean you weren't home for dinner."

"Mr. Hummel called though, right? I mean, he borrowed my phone, I heard him. He said it was fine..."

"Well we didn't really have much choice, darling. Mr. Hummel was very polite, but daddy and I felt as though we were being railroaded into letting you stay."

"I think..." I pause, scanning my brain for something useful. What do I think? "He was worried about Kurt driving in the storm, and I think Mr. Hummel just wanted to know me," I say truthfully. "We were talking about sports. He said he might come see me play dodgeball sometime."

"Oh Blaine. He doesn't need to do that," mom says with a laugh. "It's a kind offer though."

"No, I don't think he was saying it to be kind. I think he does genuinely want to come see me play."

"Mmhmm. Okay. Well, let's get you in the shower."

"Oh, I don't need one. I showered at Kurt's."

"Excuse me?"

It was the wrong thing to say. I realize as soon as I've said it, and I've never heard my mom sound so shocked.

"I went in the pool," I explain. "So Kurt said I could take a quick shower..."

"But how did you do that? I mean, you don't know the shower, how it works or anything, not like you do here, or at school."

I shrug, thinking back. At the time, it hadn't seemed like that big of a deal; I was more worried that my erection wouldn't go down, but mom is right; normally I wouldn't shower someplace I don't know, simply because I'd be worried about navigating the bathroom alone, or getting the water temperature all wrong.

"Kurt put it on for me," I offer. "And then I just...showered, I guess."

"I see. Well... Can I get you anything? A drink, snack?"

"I'm good. I'm going to go up, actually. I want to read a little before bed." That's a lie. I want to send Kurt a message, and then spend some time going over the events of the day in my head, but I'm not about to impart that news to her.

"I'll help you up."

"Mom, please, no. I can do stairs, you know I can."

"Okay. I'll be up later to turn out your light then." She's disappointed, I can tell. Usually my evening is spent sitting in the den with my parents, and though I do usually go up to read before I sleep, it's not until much later.

"By the way," I call, purposely waiting until I'm at the top of the stairs. "Kurt's picking me up at ten tomorrow."

Nothing is said, which surprises me, and I find myself left alone to lie on my bed and grin up at the ceiling for a while as I think of the way Kurt felt, sitting in my lap, kissing like he couldn't get enough.

Of _me_.

"Hey," I say into my phone. "It's Blaine, you know that, because my message will come up with my name... Anyway... Yeah. I was just... Your lips, Kurt. Your _lips_." I laugh, then silently berate myself because Cooper told me before that it comes up as "hahahaha" on text, which is super embarrassing. Suddenly, my bedroom door opens, and before I register what I'm doing, I command the phone to send the message.

"Blaine?"

"Hey dad."

I sit, praying he hasn't just heard all I've said, but I'm pretty sure he has.

"Could your mom and I talk to you a moment?"

"Sure."

"Good. Did you have fun today?"

"Yes."

"O-kay." He wants me to make this easy, but I won't. Being with Kurt- in fact, being with the Hummel's, has ignited a defiance in me that won't die down.

"So, uh... Where d'you go?"

"To Kurt's house," I tell him, because there's no point in lying. "We went in his pool."

"I see. I think I'm confused though, because I'm sure Kurt said his dad was busy today."

"Oh, he was working. He came home for dinner."

"So you were at Kurt's house, alone?" mom asks. "It was just the two of you in his pool?"

"Yes."

"Right."

I lean back against my pillow, folding my hands behind my head with a sigh. "Just ask."

"Blaine, I..." dad sounds upset, and he sits heavily on the end of the bed. "Is Kurt gay?"

"Yes."

"I see."

A long silence follows, and it's a silence I'm not going to fill. I know they're sharing a look, having a visual conversation that I will never be able to know.

"Blaine, your mom and I have decided you're not to see Kurt anymore."

"What? Are you... That's a joke, right?" I cry, sitting upright. "You want me to abandon the first friend I've made since going blind, because he's gay? Can you listen to yourself?"

"Blaine!" mom cries, shocked. "What is with you? You don't answer back like that."

"Maybe I don't, not usually, but this time I need to say something because dad's being an ass!"

"Blaine." My dad's voice is calm, measured, but I know he's merely masking his anger. "You know what happened before. The things you said. That's all died down now and we're all grateful, but being with Kurt might... well, it might influence you. Make you think certain things, get silly ideas in your head..."

Filled with a burning temper that I didn't know I could possess, I get to my feet and yell. "I'm still gay, you jerk!"

"Blaine!"

"No! I've told you this before; losing my sight doesn't mean losing my sexuality! I like guys, not girls and, more specifically, I like Kurt."

"Oh no," mom moans softly. "I knew this would happen. I just knew. He's older, more experienced... he's preying on you, and..."

"He is not! In fact, he was determined that nothing should happen today. I kissed him."

"You did what?"

"I kissed him," I repeat firmly. "I kissed him, and I liked it, and I like being with him. You won't stop me. You can yell, ground me, tell me I'm not gay, I'm confused...whatever, but you won't stop me from seeing him."

"You're not to go out with him tomorrow, Blaine, do you understand? I don't want you alone with that man."

"Tough."

"You have one new message."

My phone alert makes everyone stop, and we wait in silence until it tells me again and this time, I play it.

"Your lips are pretty fantastic too. Night, hot stuff. See you tomorrow."


	9. Chapter 9

Kurt.

"Please dad, I'm begging you."

"I get one day off a week," he grumbles, hauling himself out of bed. "One, solitary day. And now I gotta spend it convincing some kid's parents that I should let their son sleep with mine."

"That's not it at all!"

"Yeah, but it's where it's heading," he mutters, heading to the bathroom. "And what am I supposed to say then? 'Oh don't worry, at least he can't get pregnant?'"

"Okay. If you feel uncomfortable then don't worry. I just... I want to see him, and he wants to see me. That's all. Really. But we'll wait, I guess, until his parents come around."

"I'll go over there," dad says with a sigh. "Because I feel sorry for you both. But you mess this up Kurt, just one time, you push him too far, or lead him astray...run away from him, give him the runaround... Whatever, then you're on your own, you hear?"

"Yes dad. Thank you."

Filled with relief, I head back to my own room to call Blaine. He had called me at gone midnight and, though he didn't say, I knew he was crying. He hates arguing with his parents, that much is clear, and I can't really blame him. They're good, kind people, but more than a little misguided.

Blaine stood up for himself, which made my heart swell with pride, but I'm not sure that defiantly telling his parents that he'd kissed me was the best way to go about things. I didn't say that though. I just calmly told him not to worry, and promised that I'd think of some way we could see each other today.

It's as much for me as it is for him; I don't want to go back to New York without gazing upon his pretty face once more, or feeling his lips against mine. Dad feels the need to warn me that I mustn't run away, but I couldn't if I wanted to. I'm hooked.

We arrive at the Anderson's at ten, dad gives me a glare, then steps from the car and marches up to the door. "These aren't our type of people, Kurt," he whispers to me. "Too fancy."

"Blaine is very much my type, actually."

"You know what I mean, and quit being sassy."

He's a little mad at me, I know, but as soon as Mrs. Anderson opens the door, he puts on a charming smile and offers his hand. "Mrs. Anderson? I'm Burt Hummel. Nice to meet you. I thought I'd better come over and introduce myself, so we can talk about our boys."

"Oh!" Taken off guard, as I had hoped, Lorna Anderson is too polite to do anything other than invite us in, and soon we're sitting in the living room side by side, with coffee and cakes in front of us, and Mr. and Mrs. Anderson opposite.

"Well, Mr. Hummel," Marcus Anderson says with a smile. "It's nice to meet you, and lovely to see you again, Kurt. I appreciate you coming over like this but I have to say, Blaine won't be seeing you any more, Kurt. Now, that's not a reflection you, at all, and I want to make that clear, but we don't feel Blaine is ready to have any kind of friendship or otherwise with you. He's very confused about a lot of things, and..."

"Where is Blaine?" Dad asks. "Shouldn't he be here? Can't sit talking about him like his thoughts and opinions don't matter, can we?"

"Like Marcus said, Blaine is very confused," Lorna says gently.

"All the more reason to have him here, then. We can all try and help him, can't we?"

As much as I would like to, I don't say a word. This is exactly the reason I wanted dad to come with me, because I get hot headed whereas he keeps his cool, and always seems to get results. Sure enough, after a long silence and a shared look, Marcus Anderson gets to his feet and goes to retrieve Blaine, while dad makes small talk.

Lorna Anderson, I find out, does not work but helps at the senior center twice a week and runs a baby and toddler music group at the church. She also volunteers for Senator Watson's office, who is, not surprisingly, a Republican who is very outspoken on the subject of gay marriage... as in, he thinks we shouldn't have the right. Marcus Anderson is a Lawyer, with his own practise downtown. He focuses on corporate law, and it's expected that Cooper will join the family firm once his current contract in Columbus ends.

No mention is made of Blaine.

Suddenly he appears, though, in a red plaid button down and beige shorts, looking divine. I'm sad to see the dark glasses are in place, especially since he told me he only wears them when he feels self-conscious, but I guess walking into a room like this is quite daunting.

"Say hello, Blaine," Marcus commands.

"Hello."

He is meek, worn down, upset... And clearly worried about what's taking place. I find myself drawn to him, regardless of his parent's presence. I get to my feet, all eyes on me, and go to him, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. "Hey."

He doesn't flinch at all, and I'm relieved to see he's smiling when I pull back, but no one else is. My stubbornness invoked, I take his hand and we squeeze onto the smaller couch with my dad, who deliberately digs the heel of his shoe into my toes.

"Hey Blaine. Good to see you again."

"You too, Burt." He's quiet, but chirpy. This is a good sign. "I mean, I can't actually see you."

"I realize that," dad says with a laugh. "Your kid's smart," he tells the Andersons. "Funny. I like him."

It's warming to see the pride on both their faces, and I also find it frustrating. "People _like_ Blaine," I say as kindly as I can. "Don't you want that for him? Don't you want him to be liked and appreciated? You know how great he is. Let others see that too."

"It's not that," Marcus says with a sigh. "I just don't think that Blaine is capable of deciding he's gay, and attracted to you, Kurt. He told me he kissed you, he was alone at your house, in the pool with you..."

"But he's seventeen."

"And he's blind! That doesn't make him the same as other seventeen year old kids. He can't..."

"He can't what? His brain still works. In fact, he told dad yesterday that he's in AP classes and has a straight A average. That's incredible for someone who had to learn how to read Braille before continuing their education. Surely his academic achievements alone tell you that he's capable of deciding something as basic as whom he'd like to date?"

"But how can he know he's attracted to men? How? He can't see!"

"By the same token, how can he know he's attracted to women? If he met a girl at college, dated, married, had kids, how would he, by your reckoning, know that he actually loved her?"

"How about..." Dad booms, cutting both of us off. "We ask Blaine? Have either of you, for one moment, considered the fact that this is Blaine's life, and not yours? Sure, you both have an interest, but he's the one who has to live it. Blaine, son? Tell us. Tell us how you feel."

His head hanging down, Blaine shakes his head, and swipes at a tear under his glasses. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't think they'll listen," he whispers sadly.

I'm suddenly stricken with guilt. I'm behaving exactly the same as his parents are, and I haven't got any right. Even less right, in fact, than they have. This is the third time I've seen Blaine. We've had one date, shared a few kisses, and here I am, arguing over his life choices without including him in any of it.

"I'm sorry," I say, squeezing his hand. "I'll listen."

"And so will we," Lorna adds quietly. "Daddy and I need to know, Blaine, to try and understand."

"I just..." He starts, but his voice wobbles and he pauses, takes a deep breath, and carries on. "I've always been gay," he says, a little firmer this time. "I haven't always known that, but I know that in first grade, second grade... always... I've been fascinated by boys, and drawn to them. In friendship ways, obviously, but there were always some boys who would hold my attention more than others. Funnily enough, I wasn't friends with those boys, because I felt as though I couldn't approach them. Then, when I was old enough to understand it all, I told you and you just...you just dismissed it, like it didn't count for anything. You do that a lot. But you never do with Cooper. It's like... I'm the youngest, and now I'm blind as well, so whatever my opinion is, on anything, it doesn't matter. I didn't want to go to Lake Superior on vacation, but you three all decided, like it didn't matter where I went, because I couldn't see."

"Blaine, sweetie, that was never..."

"Your intention? I know. It never is. But it's how it comes off, to me. As for right now... I'm still gay. I can't tell you how I know, but I just know. And I'm... Well, I really like Kurt. He's smart, he's funny, kind... And maybe I went about saying it all wrong last night, but I'd just like to get to know him, that's all. But again, you didn't give me a chance. You always tell everyone I'm a good kid, so trust me to be a good kid. Kurt's not some...predator. I don't suppose, when we got talking, he thought he'd ask a blind kid out on a date, but he didn't ask me because I can't see. He asked me because he likes me, just as I like him, and all I'm asking is for a chance, please, to see where this is going. I'm not about to race off to New York, or start drinking and staying out all night, I just want to...to... To go out for a picnic with him, take a walk through the woods...whatever...just... I just want to be with Kurt."

During Blaine's impassioned speech, I watch as Marcus Anderson holds his head in his hands and slowly accepts the inevitable. Lorna is more composed, but she dabs delicately at her eyes when Blaine is done, and then it's up to my dad, of course, to break the silence.

"Look, I know having a gay kid isn't what any parent necessarily wants to hear. When Kurt told me, I was upset. Not for any other reason than I was terrified for his safety, especially living somewhere like this. But you know what? I've still got the same kid. He still talks back, sleeps late, works damn hard, and is a good friend and son. He's here, he's healthy, he's happy. Don't make no difference who he's dating. Same with Blaine. I get why you're worried; he's already dealing with a lot, and he's vulnerable, I get that. But I'm with him here. I think he's made a reasonable request; that he's allowed to date Kurt. He's not home often, right now it's the summer. Give them a chance."

"I don't want his heart broken," Lorna admits in a near whisper. "He's my baby, and I know he's nearly an adult, I know I can't protect him forever but... I want to try."

"If it makes you feel better, I'd kick Kurt's ass if he hurt Blaine," dad says bluntly.

"I wouldn't hurt him," I say, coming to attention. "I just wouldn't."

"Kurt," Blaine says with a smile. "You can't guarantee that."

"No, okay, I can't. But I can promise I'd never knowingly hurt you. I'd never date someone else while I'm with you, never freeze you out without warning. We might not work out, I mean, it's one date in, right? But I'd hate myself if I hurt you."

The moment Blaine and I should have had then, or could have had, can't happen. Instead, Marcus Anderson gets to his feet, runs a hand through his hair, and sighs. "Okay. You two can... See how this goes, I guess. I can't say I'm comfortable, but I don't want Blaine to be unhappy, and I don't want to be one of those awful fathers who makes their child deny who they really are. I don't want Blaine to be rushing into things, though. I like you, Kurt. Your dad is right; you're polite and well-meaning, I can see that, but with all due respect, you're ten years older. I'm assuming you've had a lot more... worldly experience...than Blaine has."

"Um..." I know I'm blushing. Hell, I'm not even blushing, I'm on fire, but I swallow hard and somehow look him in the eye. "I think I know what you're getting at, but I promise you I really wouldn't push Blaine into anything like that."

"Good, because, you know, we've never even discussed how... how that side of things works or anything. He doesn't know..."

Blaine suddenly grasps it all and sits upright, with a look of absolute horror. "Dad! Stop! Please, I'm begging you."

"Okay, okay. But all I'm saying is this; you two can spend time together, but not alone. Not for now, anyhow."

"But that's..."

"Perfectly reasonable," dad interrupts, and when no one is looking, he reaches behind me and squeezes Blaine's shoulder. "In fact, Blaine, you were saying about a picnic, right? Well, I'm heading out to Grand Lake today to meet Kurt's aunt and uncle. How about you come with? Marcus, Lorna, you could join us?"

I feel Blaine deflate beside me, but he's not yet fully realized my dad is on our side. The Anderson's, however, seem surprised but delighted, and quickly accept, asking if they can bring Cooper too.

"Of course," dad says happily. "Let me take these two home with me now, so they can help me get the food ready, and we'll meet you there."

As my brilliant dad and savior no doubt foresaw, Marcus and Lorna agree, assuming dad will be keeping a militant eye on us until we all reconvene at the lake in a couple of hours. Is it wrong, to know that he will let me take Blaine up to my room as soon as we're home? Possibly it's a little deceptive, but really, truly, all I want is to hold Blaine in my arms and kiss him once more, to have a conversation without others listening in, and to make him smile.

The speed at which everything moves after that unsettles Blaine, I can tell. My dad is like a bull in a china shop; stampeding round, making sure Blaine has all he needs including his "giant stick thingy," which Lorna politely points out is called a cane.

He's still dazed when we get in the car, and he's completely silent as we drive until suddenly, just before we turn off to my house, he comes to.

"You know," he says, taking off his glasses and smiling brightly. "I think that went really well."


	10. Chapter 10

Blaine.

Ever since I lost my sight, it's like the world moves at a slower pace. Except it doesn't, of course. _My_ world does, because sometimes I feel like I exist in some kind of fog, but the real world doesn't wait for me to catch up. So, when things move quickly, it can get the better of me, and I end up closing myself off just so that I can process what's happening.

Last night, when I called Kurt, he told me he'd work it all out. It wasn't my intention to lay it all at his door, but in a way I was thankful that he was so determined to see me again, and when he told me his dad was going to talk with my parents, I knew he was serious about me.

Burt was all kinds of wonderful. I can see why Kurt loves him so. He's calm, assured, and blunt, but he's also kind, and honest, and I think my parents appreciated that. I'm not expecting them to find this easy, but I do know they're good people who want what's best for me. They have a hard time letting go, and I know their faith will be causing them an issue, too.

When dad said Kurt and I could see each other, I was overjoyed, and then he added that it couldn't be unaccompanied and I very nearly went back into surly teenager mode, but Burt stopped me and I couldn't work out why.

The next thing I know, Kurt and I are railroaded into some kind of picnic with the extended family on both sides, and Kurt seems oddly elated. Burt starts helping me out to the car, my mom's calling after me to take sunscreen and water, clearly worrying that Kurt might have neither, and my dad is calling Cooper and telling him to meet at Grand Lake.

So then, when we're in the car, and the conversation between Kurt and his dad is gently washing over me, I start to think.

My dad said I could date Kurt; that we could see how it goes. He openly admitted that he's not comfortable, but he did say he wants me to be happy. That's...pretty amazing, right? My mom agreed with him, and both of them were happy to accept Burt's invitation to the picnic. They like the Hummel's, and Burt welcomes my parents in return. That's also a pretty cool thing.

Then I get to thinking about the whole 'not being unaccompanied' thing. Both Kurt and I have agreed we don't want to rush into anything; that we just want to spend time together and see what, if anything, develops. So while it might be a bit overwhelming to suddenly learn I'm meeting Kurt's grandparents, aunt, and uncle in one day, I also know it will give my parents a chance to see Kurt and I together, interacting with each other as well as other people. Maybe, just maybe, it'll make them realize that there's really no difference in their son dating a guy or a girl. Cooper's brought a string of girls home for dinner over the years, and my parents have been gracious and courteous to them all.

They've also never allowed any of them up to Cooper's room unsupervised, or let them sleep over, even when Cooper dated Emily for three years after college. So I guess, in that respect, they're being fair to me. Besides, I know Burt trusts Kurt and I to be alone when we're at his house.

Oh.

"You know..." I take of my glasses, finally relaxing and smiling. "I think that went really well."

"I'd say so, sunshine," Burt says with a laugh. "But you gotta respect your parents wishes, don't forget. I don't mind you two being up in Kurt's room when you're at my place, but I trust the pair of you not to get into anything you're not ready for, okay?"

"Yes sir."

Kurt laughs loudly. "Don't call him sir, Blaine, he'll get carried away and think he's important."

"He has respect," Burt teases. "Unlike you."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Thank you, anyway, for your help."

"Yes, thank you, Burt," I add. "You were really great."

"Not a problem."

I drift off again, but not before I've heard Burt muttering under his breath; "If I see him walking funny, Kurt, I swear to God I'll ground you like you were a kid once more."

Kurt doesn't even ask when we arrive at his place, just leads me right up the stairs where, I remember, we turn right and then take a door on our left.

"We should offer to help your dad," I say as he closes his door.

"And we will. But for now, just let me..."

He takes me in his arms, sighing in pleasure, and holds me. That's all he does; just holds me close, his arms draped over my shoulders, one hand wandering up to play with my hair, but it's the way that he holds me that gets me.

Kurt holds me like I matter, like he never wants to let me go, like there's nowhere else he'd rather be and truly, it's all I've ever dreamed of.

I sink into the embrace, my cheek pressed against his jaw, my chest flush to his, my arms encircling his waist, and I stay there.

I'm normally pretty good at guessing time, but I couldn't tell you how much time passes when I'm in Kurt's arms. However long it is, it's not enough, but eventually he moves slightly, and kisses just below my ear.

"Hot stuff."

"That got me in a lot of trouble."

"I know. Sorry."

"Don't be."

I find his lips with mine, then, brushing over them carefully until I find I'm unable to keep from smiling. "Feels nice."

"Feels incredible."

I press harder, wanting, if I'm honest, another kiss like we shared the night before, and Kurt is only too happy to oblige, opening his mouth wide and breathing sharply as he presses me back against the closed door.

It feels good. So good, in fact, that I feel myself being taken over by lust, and I'm barely aware of the fact that I bite down on Kurt's lower lip, before running my tongue over it, or that my hands seem to have a life of their own and are steadily making their way downwards, over the back of his shorts.

What I do notice, though, is Kurt grinding against me, and then the kiss turns hot, dirty, wanting, as he pulls my leg up around his waist.

"Gotta stop," he murmurs, even though he doesn't. "Blaine..."

I don't know why he's asking me to stop; I'm powerless, overcome by urges that I've never felt so compulsively or strongly before in my life. Kurt's body feels amazing against me; he's hard and desperate just as I am, and I only crave more, when Kurt finally breaks the kiss to scrape his teeth down one side of my neck, pulling my collar open to suck on the soft flesh there.

My head hits the door with a thump and I arch up with a moan. I need him closer, need more, and I quickly move my hands up and under his shirt to touch the soft, smooth skin underneath.

"Kurt! Grandma wants to know if Blaine likes fruit cake?"

"Oh fucking hell!"

Kurt's cursing shocks me again, but it makes me laugh too. He pulls back, momentarily resting his forehead against my shoulder in despair. "Do you like fruit cake?"

"Yes."

"Yes he does!"

"Okay. Now put him down, please, and come help with these sandwiches."

"I like you better though," I say, chasing his lips once more, but he merely gives me one chaste kiss and laughs.

"Down boy."

"You don't want to?"

"Want to?" I hear him moving about the room, but I'm not confident enough to follow him, so I stand still, waiting. I know I must look pathetic.

"Blaine... Ugh." He must throw his hands up in despair because I hear them slapping down against his thighs. "I want to, Blaine, very, very much. That's the problem. That's why we really shouldn't be alone. I want all kinds of things with you, because you're such an incredible person, plus you're seriously hot to look at, and your body feels amazing, your lips are divine, and I just make out with you for a few minutes and I'm so damn hard that it hurts... But you're also worth savouring, and there's something even more erotic about us both knowing when to pull back, taking these little steps, because whenever we move forward, it's gonna be even better, right?"

"I don't know," I answer honestly. "I don't really know what moving forward entails. I only know that I want your hands on me. Your lips... You feel so good against me..."

"Okay, stop, or I'll end up locking myself in the bathroom."

"Why?"

"To jerk off," he says with a laugh. "Because you're making me seriously horny!"

"You do that?"

"Do what? Jerk off?"

"Hmm." Embarrassed, I give a small nod.

"Yes. Don't you?"

"No."

"Oh god... Oh god..." He stops, and I hear him walking about once more, getting closer until he's holding my hand. "Clearly some education is needed here, and I am only too happy to provide... But not right now. Not today, when we're about to spend the day with my grandma. Come on, let's help dad with the sandwiches."

I like being in the kitchen, next to Burt, while Kurt stands opposite, supposedly bagging the sandwiches that I've filled, but Burt says he's useless. I like the playful way they tease each other, their love and affection clear. Burt tells me all about who I'll be meeting today, which I appreciate. I think he understands how anxious I get when I meet a lot of new people in one go, and I don't think it's because Kurt's told him. I think it's just because he gets me.

"So when the picnic is done, I have to take Kurt to the airport," Burt says, and I feel my heart sinking a little. "You wanna come with? It'd be nice to have some company on the drive back. We could even stop for coffee, if your folks are okay with that?"

"I'd like that."

"Good. Well, you ask them. If they're worried about anything, I'll talk with them. I'll have you home by nine."

"My curfew is six."

"Which is absurd. We'll work on that, kid. You and I."

"Ask if Blaine can sleep over next time I'm home," Kurt says, and I smile to hear the devilment in his voice.

"Absolutely not."

"Ask if he can come to New York to visit."

"Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, I swear to God..."

"Is that your middle name?"

Burt laughs loudly, while Kurt huffs. "Yes it is. Blame him."

It turns out that both Kurt's mom and her mom were called Elizabeth, and, knowing they'd only have one child, Burt thought it would be sweet to name their son after his wife and mother-in-law. It's undeniably strange, but kinda cute and anyway, it suits Kurt.

The first thing that happens when we arrive at the lake, is that Kurt disappears from my side. I hear him talking to someone, telling them that his dad gave his middle name away, but then his voice trails off as he moves away, and Burt is busy getting things from the trunk.

I feel the panic setting in and try to keep calm. The car is in front of me, so the logical thing to do is to step forward towards Burt, only then the trunk slams shut and he's greeting some man named Pete and they start walking away too.

I'm alone.

I don't want to call out, so I use my cane to try and follow, only I've not been to this side of the lake before; I don't know where the water is, or if I'm in a parking lot or just a pull over. Where is Kurt? Why did he go?

I try to breathe, but it won't come; I can't get the air into my lungs and now there's sweat making my glasses slip off my face. I don't want anyone to see the blind kid stumbling along, trying to keep a panic attack at bay.

"Holy shit, Blaine!"

Kurt's voice brings light to my darkness, even if he is cursing again. He reaches me in seconds, taking my arm before he realizes I'm shaking, and then he holds me. "I'm so sorry. I didn't... I mean I didn't forget about you, but I didn't remember that you'd need... Ah crap. I'm a horrible, horrible person. Hate me, please."

"I couldn't hate you if I tried."

The panic subsides as quickly as it arrived, and my breathing slows to something resembling normal. Kurt kisses my cheek quickly, then steps to one side for me to hold his arm. "You should. I hate myself right now. Come on, I'll take you over. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Clearly he could see the panic on my face, but if he could see that then surely he can see that now he's here it's all okay again? "Hey, you know what? One advantage of me being blind is that I get to hold onto you in public and nobody can say anything."

"Well, your parents aren't here yet. There's still time."

I laugh, and press a little closer. "I'm gonna miss you."

"I'll be home soon, I promise. And next time, I'll try not to abandon my boyfriend in a strange parking lot."

"Your..." I stop, turning toward him. "Is that...? Do you mean me?"

"Yes, I mean you. Why? Do you think I make a habit of this? Abandoning guys in places they're not familiar with?"

"No, I just..." I'm unable to keep from grinning and I know Kurt is too, because he nudges our shoulders together and we carry on walking. "Boyfriend. Yeah. I like that."

"So do I. Now come meet my family."


	11. Chapter 11

Burt.

"Oh my goodness but they are just the cutest," my sister-in-law, Ruth, whispers to me as Kurt and Blaine walk slowly towards us. "He's found the one!"

"He's been on one date with him. This is their second. Chaperoned by the entire family."

"He's found the one," she repeats, digging me in the ribs. "Be happy for him."

Truth be told, I agree with her, but ain't no use saying that to Ruth because she'll start on about how she's always prayed Kurt would find someone. I love Ruth to death, and her husband, Pete, too, but the whole Jesus thing is just a step too far.

I watch Kurt as he introduces Blaine to his grandparents, Jean and Tony, and then Ruth is practically on top of them both, introducing herself and Pete. Blaine takes it all in his stride and I find myself feeling incredibly proud of him. I guess it's not easy, having to learn who people are by voice alone, and not being able to read their expression. But he smiles, shakes hands, and then I see him sitting down on the blanket and starting up a conversation with Ruth.

It's when his own parents arrive that he gets tense, because, I guess, again, he can't see what anyone's thinking; he's only got their voices to go on. And right now, they're all being super polite.

The Anderson's are nice. I like them, though they need to release that iron-like grip they have on Blaine. But, like I told him, we'll work on that. I like the brother, too, though Kurt looks like he'd murder him, given half the chance. Whatever it is he's done to piss him off, the brother looks like he might be trying to make amends, while Kurt looks like he is absolutely not interested.

"So," I say, loudly, because I find volume is always helpful. "What do you do, Cooper?"

"I'm a lawyer," he tells me, moving away from Kurt, thankfully, to sit by me. "In Columbus, though I'll move over to dad's firm in the coming few years. Who knows, maybe Blaine will work there too one day?"

"Blaine doesn't want to be a lawyer," Kurt snaps. "He wants to be a teacher."

"Kurt!" I'm shocked to see a side of him that I thought had disappeared when he was through puberty. It's petulance and jealousy all rolled into one, and when Blaine quietly says something to him, he turns away in a sulk.

"Well, whatever he wants to be, I'm sure he'll be brilliant at it," Cooper says stiffly. "Burt, dad tells me you're a mechanic?"

The afternoon moves on, as I'm busy talking with Cooper, and the Anderson's are talking to my in-laws. I keep a careful watch on Kurt and Blaine, but any tension there was from Kurt's surly remark quickly disappears and they lie down on the blanket side by side, talking. Blaine keeps his sunglasses in place, but given the bright sunshine it's hardly a surprise. He laughs often, Kurt does too and slowly, they get closer and closer on the blanket until they're holding hands, and I hear Kurt describing different cloud shapes to Blaine.

"It's like an elephant, but with, like, a lizard butt."

"A lizard butt? What even is that?"

"You know. You've seen lizards before in your life. Try and remember."

"Yeah I've seen them," Blaine says, laughing, "But not with an elephant head."

"Use your imagination," Kurt tells him. "Like you have to imagine how I look."

"I don't have to. I can touch you. I can't touch a cloud."

"Yes, but you must've formed an opinion in your mind. An image, of how I look to you."

"Actually, no," Blaine says, and he sits up, folding his legs underneath him. Kurt does the same, sitting opposite, and once again they hold hands. "I don't _see_ you, Kurt, I _feel_ you. Can I?"

"Always."

Mesmerized, I watch as Blaine tentatively reaches out with both hands and runs his fingers over Kurt's cheekbones, down along his jawline and then lets his thumbs trace over his lips. "I feel how beautiful you are," Blaine says softly. "I don't create an image of you in my head, not how you would of me. When I bring you to mind, it's to recall the smoothness of your cheeks, the stubble along your jaw. The extraordinarily long eyelashes you have, or the softness of your lips. The way they feel when they're against mine... That's what makes you beautiful to me."

I'm aware that everyone has stopped to listen to this; though we are all scattered somewhat, and Kurt and Blaine are off to one side, their conversation can be very clearly heard, and they're both entirely oblivious to it. I see Kurt's grandma wiping away a tear, while Ruth clutches her hands to her chest. Cooper is smiling, and I can see the realization dawning of exactly how grown up his brother has become, but it's Lorna and Marcus Anderson whose reactions surprise me the most.

There is undeniable pride on Marcus' face as he looks on, then he remembers he shouldn't be watching and looks away, clearing his throat. Lorna reaches for her husband's hand, lacing their fingers together and smiling up at him. It's tinged with a hint of sadness, but it's obvious that they're both moved by the gentle moment between their son and Kurt.

Suddenly embarrassed, and hoping no one has heard his little heartfelt moment, Blaine lies back down again, asking Kurt to describe more clouds, and conversation bubbles up once more. I stay quiet, looking up at the clouds that Kurt is describing, and I wonder if Elizabeth is smiling down from someplace, watching as her son falls in love.


	12. Chapter 12

Blaine.

Despite my misgivings about spending the whole day in the company of both our families, it's actually a pretty perfect thing to do. I like Kurt's family a lot, and his aunt and my mom start talking about church. By the time we leave, my mom has convinced Ruth to help out with the senior center lunch on Tuesday, and dad is going over to Kurt's grandparents place next weekend, with Pete, to fix the hole in the garage roof.

When I ask if I can go with Burt to take Kurt to the airport, there's no protest at all. Emboldened, I ask if I can also visit a diner with him on the way home if I'm back by nine.

"Of course you can," dad says, putting his arm about me. "No need to ask." He kisses my forehead,laughing when I try to duck out of it. "Love you, Blaine."

"Love you too, dad."

Everyone starts to pack up and, perhaps knowing I feel a little useless, Kurt slides his hand into mine and encourages me to start walking. "Is it really patronizing to say I'm proud of you?"

"Yes, but I'll take it."

"Good."

"Where are you taking me?"

"Behind this tree, because if I don't get to kiss you soon, I might actually implode. Plus, I have something to say."

"Is it a proposal? Because that's very sudden."

"It's not, no, smart ass."

Then I feel my back pressing up against a wide tree trunk and Kurt comes close, giving me a lingering kiss on the lips. "I just wanted to say..."

I wait, and I wait, but nothing else is said.

"Kurt?"

"Don't worry about it. I'll call you tomorrow?"

"Sure, but what were you going to say?"

"Nothing. I mean, that was it. That's all I needed to say."

"Oh." It wasn't, I know it wasn't, but I'm not going to force the issue. Not now, when I know he'll be gone in a couple of hours. "Okay. Well, before we get to the airport...just so you know... And I'm sorry if this is maybe too much... But you've turned my whole life around in just two short days, Kurt, and I'm gonna miss you so much, but I'm also really excited to see you again soon, because I can't wait to find out what's next for us."

I'm not expecting the fierce, strong, almost desperate, hug, but I manage to keep my footing, just, and hug right back. "Thank you," he whispers into my ear. "That's just what I needed to hear."

I hear footsteps, and Kurt pulls back immediately. Waiting, I try to figure out if I know the person or not. "Cooper?"

"How the hell did you know that?" Kurt asks in disbelief.

"Yeah it's me. Just to let you know mom and dad are heading this way any minute, so you might wanna..."

"Want to what?" Kurt spits. "We're talking, not doing anything."

"Okay, well... If you want to... I'll keep watch. That's all I'm saying."

"Huh?"

"Just kiss my brother," Cooper snaps. "Kiss him! Oh, that sounded weird. Well..."

I don't know what happens then, but Kurt runs one hand up my arm and slides his other to the back of my neck. "Oh Blaine."

He kisses me so sweetly I could cry; the press of his lips is always a wonderful thing, but this time it's chaste yet loving and, I think, filled with a hundred sentiments that he'd like to express, but doesn't know how. "I'm going to miss you," is what he does say, before kissing my cheek and then just below my ear. "A lot."

"They're walking this way," Cooper whispers. "So..."

"Thanks," Kurt says stiffly. "For keeping watch."

"Just make him happy, Kurt. That's all I want, for Blaine to be happy."

And I am happy; I've had the most memorable weekend ever, I think. Just thirty six hours ago I was getting ready for my first ever date, which I wasn't even sure was a date in the first place. My parents were in denial, I'd never been kissed and I was pretty sure I'd never be able to impress Kurt enough for him to want to see me ever again.

A lot's happened in a very short space of time.

Everything feels heavy, slow, and mournful when I get in the back of Burt's car, ready to take Kurt back to the airport. I'm warmed when Kurt slides in next to me, and takes my hand, but there's no escaping that tomorrow I'll wake up and be back to my ordinary existence, which is not really where I want to be.

"So," Kurt says, playing with my fingers. "I think it might be some time before I can get back."

"Some time? What's that, like three weeks?"

"At the earliest. More likely four or five."

"Oh." If it had seemed bad before it's even worse now, and I find myself swallowing down a lump in my throat which threatens to overcome me completely if I don't get a grip.

"I have a job, you know?" Kurt is saying and I nod, turning my face toward the window. "I can't just take time off to fly home, and the nature of fashion mans there's a lot of evening and weekend shows, plus the flights are so expensive..."

I nod again. I can't speak, because I'll cry, and not just little tears, either. I'll cry proper full on sobs like I'm a little kid, and I don't want Kurt to see that.

"We can talk on the phone though, right? I mean... This doesn't change anything, between us, is what I'm trying to say. I've still had the best time, and I'll fly back as soon as I can."

I give another nod and Kurt falls silent, eventually releasing my hand, too.

"I'll be in school when you get back."

"Huh?"

"School will have started again."

"Oh right. Yeah. You feeling okay about that?"

I shrug. "Kinda. Not really, I guess, but it's a thing I've got to do, so..."

"Well at least you'll have thoughts of a hot boyfriend to keep you going, right?"

"I don't know."

"Blaine..." He takes off his seatbelt and shuffles closer, wrapping his arms about my neck and kissing my cheek. "Don't be like that," he whispers so that Burt can't hear. "I told you what you are to me."

"I don't know what your life is like in New York." I take a deep, trembling breath but even so, those darn tears still make their escape. "I don't know who your friends are, who you work with. In my head, there's all these male models asking for your number... And... And maybe you will smile and say you've got a boyfriend but then you'll think over it, and realize I'm only a school kid, and then... I don't know. You have this glamorous lifestyle, Kurt, and I have... Nothing."

He holds me for a moment and lets me cry, kissing away each tear as it falls until he pulls back slightly, but keeps my hand in his. "Listen to me, Blaine. When we first met, you told me you were good at reading people just from the tone of their voice. So hear this; I have no intention, whatsoever, of cheating on you. I do meet male models, yes, and yes, I've been offered numbers and I've asked for numbers, but you know what? No one I've met, from any walk of life, has come close to you. You've captivated me completely and I... I'm going to miss you so much it hurts. But you'd hate it if I was here all the time. You'd get bored of me being clingy and overbearing."

"I wouldn't, Kurt. Trust me, I really wouldn't."

"My life isn't glamorous," he says, cuddling in close again. "Just so you know. My wages are awful, I can't afford my own place, I live in the worst part of Brooklyn... But I don't know... None of that seems to matter. I like my job, I love my roommates even though they drive me insane, and our apartment is homey and sweet. Still, you're not there, which is gonna suck."

I swallow down the childish, insecure part of me that wants to beg him to call every day. I can't make those demands, not when he's so busy in New York. Instead, I slip my arm around his waist and kiss his cheek. "I do understand why you can't get back." I feel him smile against my face. "I'm sorry for getting upset. And I trust you, okay? I want you to know that. I trust you."

I hate the airport. I've only been there once since I lost my sight, because the crowds of people rushing about terrified me and Cooper had to half carry me back outside. It's not so bad on a Sunday evening but even so, I'm shaking as I cling tightly to Kurt's arm, my cane tapping out in front of me.

"It's okay." His voice is soft and reassuring in my ear. "I've got you. It's okay."

"Am I ever going to be able to do stuff like this on my own?"

"Of course you are."

"I don't know. It's been three years, Kurt."

"Three years in which you've had to get used to no sight, learning Braille, coming to terms, emotionally, with all that's happened. You know what? You will get there, because I have faith in your determination."

"I haven't got any."

"Yes you have. You like to keep it quiet, but it's there, just under the surface. You've just gotta bring it out a bit more. Look at how you were with your parents. If you hadn't been determined, then we wouldn't have seen each other today, and your parents wouldn't have even thought to recognize that you might have found some happiness."

I stop still, thinking, and neither Kurt nor his dad try to move me along. He's right, I realize. My determination made me stand up for myself, and because of that, everything worked out for the better.

"Huh."

"There we go!" Burt laughs, patting me on the back. "So if you can do all that, in one day, I'd say it's a pretty good bet that one day you'll have the courage to navigate busy places on your own."

"You'll have to," Kurt remarks as we start walking along once more. "If you want to come visit me."

I don't reply, not for any other reason than my mind immediately goes to thoughts of Kurt and I sharing a bed, and then my body disobeys my brain entirely and I need to ask where the bathroom is. When I return, hoping no one will notice that the problem hasn't entirely disappeared, it's time for Kurt to check in and head through security.

From the noise about us, I know there's no privacy here, but once Kurt has said goodbye to his dad, he puts his arms around my waist and draws me close. "I'll see you soon, hot stuff."

"See you soon. Will you call me, or do I call you? I'm not sure how it works."

"I'll call you tonight, when I land, and everyday thereafter."

"I like that."

"I mean," he clears his throat nervously. "That might be too much, so.."

"That absolutely won't be too much at all."

"Oh." The relief is evident, and he hugs me close. "Then I will call you every day. Blaine... you have no idea just... You're wonderful, that's all. Completely wonderful."

He kisses me right on the lips. Right there, in the middle of the airport, where anyone could say anything. They don't, but even so, the notion that Kurt didn't care what anyone thought, and that he kissed me because he wanted to, stays with me for a very long time.

Burt senses I'm sad, and I know he is too. We drive for a long time in silence and it suits us both, until he declares he's hungry and well pull over at a diner.

One of the main reasons I like Burt is because he just says it how it is, or asks if he doesn't know. Like when we get out of the car, he asks if I need his arm, and I say yes, then he makes jokes about asking for a table with a view. When we're seated, he unfolds a menu, studies it for a moment, and then clears his throat.

"Do I read this to you, or what?"

"I doubt they'll have a braille copy."

"Good point. Okay, Breakfast items, served all day..."

"Coffee is fine," I say. "You don't need to read the whole thing."

"Yeah I do, you need to eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"Okay, what is going on here? You're weird about food and I don't know why. Last night you barely touched the pizza and I watched you today; you didn't eat anything at our picnic. You just drank water. So that means you've not eaten since breakfast, if you've eaten at all. You got one of those disorder thingys? Because I will have to tell your parents."

"No, no, it's not that. I just don't like eating in front of people, because I'm worried I'll make a mess. Yesterday, at your house, Kurt turned his back while I ate a sandwich, but generally I just try and avoid eating when other people are around."

"That's the stupidest thing I ever heard," Burt declares. "Get over yourself and order a burger. You can't see me, but trust me when I say I never leave a diner without ketchup down my shirt. Use a napkin, if you're that concerned. It's what they're for."

"Yes, but..."

"But nothing, sunshine. You're eating, end of. How you gonna take Kurt out for dinner? Sit there looking at him as he eats?"

"I wasn't planning on taking him out for dinner."

"Well, now you can. Cheeseburger?"

"Uh... I guess."

"Good."

And that's the end of that.

As we eat, I realize it doesn't matter, anyway. I do tuck a napkin into my shirt, as Burt suggests, and at one point he tells me some lettuce has dropped into my lap, but I've already felt it land, and I carefully rub at the spot on my shorts just in case there's a stain. For the most part, though, Burt and I just talk and eat, and everything is really great.

"Kurt said you want to be a teacher. That true?"

"Um, well, kind of. It's what I always wanted to be, yes, but obviously now that's not... That can't happen. But I was thinking of studying music at college anyway, and maybe teaching piano or something?"

"You ain't gonna earn much money just from that."

"No."

"You can still teach, anyway. There are schools for blind kids all over."

"Oh, I know, but I don't think I'd be the right person for one of them. I still struggle with my lack of sight, you know? I find it hard to be positive about it sometimes, so I don't think they'd want me on board."

"Are you nuts? Think of it this way. You get a six year old kid, gets a brain tumor or something, that renders her blind. She's gotta adapt to life, go to a special new school, learn a whole new way of reading letters when she's only just learned her abc's. What's she gonna need? A teacher that tells her everything's rosy, or a teacher that's gonna level with her, tell her that yes, it sucks, it hurts, and there are bad days? Because that teacher's honesty is what she'll appreciate, what she'll remember, and you know what else? She'll look to a teacher like you and realize that if you overcame all the odds to get where you are, then she can too."

As Burt speaks, it's like the fog clears. I can envision me, helping little kids to learn how to read Braille, teaching them how to navigate past tables and chairs, or helping them to understand how to overcome dangers in sighted society. I think of me in the future, taking myself to work on the bus or metro, and I think of coming home every evening, to Kurt waiting for me.

"I could do that," I say, as behind my eyes I see flashes of bright yellow hope. "What you said... It actually makes a lot of sense."

"I always talk sense," Burt says proudly, and then he reaches across and just for a moment, squeezes my hand. "Blaine, you have the ability to go and do whatever you dream of doing. If you want to teach then go for it. Change lives. Do good. Light up the sky with your happiness because if anyone deserves a great life, kid, it's you."


	13. Chapter 13

Kurt.

How can saying goodbye to someone after two dates, hurt so much? Why do I feel like my heart's being ripped out as I board the plane that will take me back to New York and my everyday life? Why do I cry as we touch down on the Tarmac, and all the time I'm in line for a cab, wondering if I can get away with calling Blaine right now, just to hear his voice?

I give in as soon as I'm inside the cab, swallowing all my upset in favor of sounding bright and breezy. Blaine is buzzing after dinner with my my dad, which only makes everything hurt that much more. He talks happily about how he's been researching online, looking at what various colleges have to offer someone who wants to train to be a kindergarten teacher in a school for the blind.

My brain switches into gear, as I remember that Rachel once led a series of dance classes in a school for the blind, and I vow to ask her about it as soon as I see her.

"I think I could do it, Kurt. I mean, I have to talk to mom and dad, but you know what? Even if there's a course that's suitable and it's out of state, I think it's worth considering, don't you?"

"I definitely do. And you could even combine music with something like... I don't know... Braille studies? Whatever it is that might help. Yeah. I'm proud of you."

"You are? I like that. Your dad said something."

"Oh yeah?"

"You know you told me I've just got to learn how to fly?"

"I did."

"Well he told me I could light up the sky."

I smile down the line, and wipe away the tears that just won't seem to stop falling. "You could, Blaine. You absolutely could. And I want you to. I want you to light it up in a thousand different colors, and I just know you'll be able to see them all."

Sometimes, my roommates can be obnoxious, irritating, and the last people I want to see in the entire world. Other times, like today, they're the most welcome sight, and Rachel and Santana know me so well now that they don't even ask questions, just hold out their arms and let me flop down onto the couch between them.

"I don't even know why I'm crying!" I wail dramatically. I like to be dramatic sometimes. It suits me. "I had the most amazing time with him and now I'm back here, and Blaine is there, and I've got so much fucking work to do that I don't know when I'll get home again and it sucks!"

Rachel smoothes the hair back from my forehead and kisses there. "You really like him, huh?"

"Oh God. He's... Yes. Yes I do. So much. And way more than I've ever liked anyone."

Santana frowns, getting up to find a bottle of wine in the fridge. "Kurt, are you sure? I mean, the kid comes with a lot of baggage.. Like, a lot a lot. Plus, he's still a kid."

"I know, which is why I'm not scaring him off by telling him what I really feel. I'm keeping it cool, for his sake, but wow. I could just... I could just spend all day every day in his arms and be perfectly happy forever."

"You've had two dates," a wary Rachel reminds me, but I don't take any notice. I grab my glass of wine and head to my room to work, distracting myself so that I don't call Blaine yet again and scare him off entirely.

In a strange way, being apart from Blaine helps. It's not easy, not being able to kiss him, or to cuddle up in his arms, but our daily phone conversations enable us to learn more about the other without the distraction of physical attraction. It quickly becomes habit for us to talk daily at nine. That way, I'm home from work, he's had dinner and talked with his parents, and they're more amiable about him spending an hour talking with me.

We talk about anything and everything. I discover things I never knew, like Blaine does enjoy going to the movies, as long as it's a movie with a substantial plot, as opposed to an action blockbuster where the plot is overlooked in favor of special effects that he can't see or imagine.

He loves to read, and we discuss our favorite books, recommending various titles to each other. He says he can't read as fast as he used to, now he has to use Braille. I point out that I wouldn't have a clue where to start. He also loves to play piano, and he plays for me a few times while I lie on my bed, the phone pressed to my ear as I try to imagine how beautiful he must look when lost in his music.

We talk about my job, the people I work with, and my roommates. He's intrigued by my writing work, and says several times that he wishes the magazine were available in Braille, or on podcast, so he could have some idea of what I discuss in my fashion articles.

I spend three hours the next day, recording myself reading nearly a year's worth of back issues and, when it's done, I upload it and email it across.

He calls me early that evening.

"You made me cry."

"Sorry. That was not my intention."

"You made my mom cry, too. And I know Cooper was touched. Dad said it's a bold and romantic gesture and must mean you're serious about me."

"I am."

"Good." He laughs. I love it when Blaine laughs. It bubbles up from inside and breaks free, tumbling from his lips and making the world seem a much better place. "I haven't listened to them all yet, but I'm looking forward to it. I'm gonna put them on my phone so I can hear you at lunch when I go back to school."

"How many days now?"

"Six. Twelve since you were here."

"Blaine..."

"I know, I know, and please don't think I was getting at you."

"I know you weren't. I miss you, that's all, and it hurts to think about how long it's been since I was with you."

"Yeah, but how do we get around that? I mean, it'll always be this way, won't it? You're there, I'm here..."

Neither of us mention the future, and I don't know if he's thinking about it or not, so I'm certainly not going to raise it. "Tell me how you feel about going back to school."

"Confused. Why do we start back on a Wednesday? It seems strange. Other than that... I don't know. Not majorly happy. I have colleges to research though, options to consider."

"Did you find any courses yet?"

"A few. One college sent me a prospectus in Braille, which was cool. I didn't need to have it read to me."

"Where's that?"

"New Mexico."

"Oh."

"But there are other places. The good news is, there's a lot of scholarships out there to help with the costs. Things like buying textbooks in Braille and stuff... it gets expensive."

"Yeah, I guess it does. I hadn't thought about it."

"Kurt?"

"Yeah?"

"I miss you so much."

"You do?"

"Yes. I don't always say it, because I don't want you to think I'm overbearing, but yeah. I wish you were here. And honestly? I'm throwing everything I have into planning for college right now, because the thought of another year at school is really getting me down."

"I miss you. I wish I could be right by your side, right now."

"Tell me what we'd be doing if you were here."

"Oh now, Blaine, that's a different conversation entirely."

He laughs again, from shock, I can tell, and then he clears his throat. "You can... You can tell me that if you like. I'm intrigued."

"Ha! Blaine Anderson, are you a little horny there?"

"I'm seventeen, Kurt. I'm permanently feeling that way."

"Good point. Well, I'm a man of honor, so you wouldn't necessarily be naked on all fours. Although..." I break off, laughing when he shrieks. "I'm teasing. I don't know. I guess I'd just like to be making out with you, like, a lot. That day, in my room, against the door, when I could feel how turned on we both were..."

"Kurt..."

I groan, falling onto my back. I'm torn between digging a palm into my groin or carrying on with what's already started. "I think I have to go."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Is it normal to just... y'know... get hard when we're talking like this?"

"Jesus. I hope so, otherwise I've got a real problem."

"You're hard right now?"

Just his asking has me rolling onto my front, however painful it is, and biting the edge of the pillow. "Mmhmm. And now I really have to go jerk off before I explode."

"I've never done that."

"So you said before. Really never?"

"Never."

"You should try."

"I can't. I'm tempted, especially when I hear you talking like that, but I want to wait. I want you to be with me."

"Ah...Fuck, Blaine! You're killing me here!"

"I'll let you go," he says, laughing. "And I'll speak with you tomorrow."

"Okay. G'night, hot stuff."

As it happens, I don't get my chance. Right after I hang up I get a late night call from my boss, asking me to go cover a shoot right upstate tomorrow. It's the last thing I want to do, especially since it means leaving home at five in the morning and returning late the next night, but she begs and pleads and in the end says I can hire a really nice car, so I give in. Then Santana arrives, settling down uninvited in the middle of my bed, with a carton of ice cream and two spoons.

"How's lemonade boy?"

"He's good. Worried about starting his senior year, I think, but otherwise okay."

"And how are you?"

"Missing him."

"You should go home. Fuck his nerves away."

"Santana! I'm not going to do that."

"Have you even kissed him yet? Properly?"

"Yes!"

"So he's probably begging for more, only he's too polite to say."

"No." I shake my head, digging my spoon into the ice cream again. "Blaine is entirely innocent, and I mean entirely. He's not wanting anything more. He'd say."

"No he wouldn't."

"He would. There's absolutely no way I'm going to force him into anything he's not ready for."

"That's my point! He probably is ready."

"Makes no difference anyway, does it? He's in Ohio and I'm here, getting ready to drive four hours upstate to write up some Dior fashion shoot."

"Ooh. Can I come?"

"Don't you have work?"

"Damn. Yes. But don't take Rachel instead or I'll cut you."

"I'm not driving all that time in a car with Rachel."

"So your boss will owe you for this, huh?"

"Big time."

"Why not ask if you can take Friday off, and fly home?"

"Because flights on weekends are stupidly expensive."

"True. Too bad you can't fly back mid-week, I guess."

She's right, it is too bad I can't take some vacation time and fly back for a few days, but I already took time earlier in the year, and I'm saving the rest of my time off for the holidays, so Blaine and I are stuck like this. I wish I had the courage to tell him how much he means to me, but I fear I'd descend into a wailing, sobbing mess, and Santana and Rachel have warned me against that before.

The fact is, I'm in deep. Not only do I adore talking with Blaine, but I love to be with him, to touch him, to watch the way he listens to me so intently as I talk. I'd ask to skype, but I think that's unfair, since it's not of any benefit to him. I think about him constantly, and I think wild, crazy thoughts, like what it'd be like if he lived here with me. How awesome it would be to come home to him each day. Would we end up married? With kids? Does Blaine want kids?

Honestly, I go back and forth between wild, fanciful plans for the future, and slightly less pure thoughts, because that's how my mind works. One minute I am thinking of owning a house in the suburbs with my husband who hasn't yet finished High School, and the next I'm groaning at the thought of Blaine naked beneath me, arching up, wanting.

Yeah, I really need to see him soon, and I really need to get this burning lust out of my system before I do.

My mind's made up for me when I wake to a text from Blaine.

"Kurt. I had a dream about you. It was wet."


	14. Chapter 14

Blaine.

I stretch slowly into waking, with a heavy feeling of dread settling over me almost immediately. Today is the last day of summer. Tomorrow, I'll be back at school, tapping my way along the now familiar corridors, listening to the sound of student footsteps scurrying out of my way.

I wish they wouldn't. I wish they'd stop, and ask me how I am, or comment on what I'm wearing, but they never do. Not for the first time, I really wish I had a friend, someone I could pour my heart out to about Kurt.

Cooper tries, I know he does, but it's awkward. How do I explain my most intimate feelings to my brother? Waking up two mornings in a row with a wet bed had driven me to call him on the weekend, and ask him to meet me for coffee, but I didn't know where to start.

"Just tell me whatever it is," he sighed exasperatedly as we drove toward the Lima Bean. "Has he dumped you?"

"No."

"Oh."

"Wait a minute... Do you want him to dump me? Were you actually happy about that for a moment?"

"Yes and no," he answered honestly. "I really do want you to be happy, but I'm still not sure about him at all. And mom and dad are worried out of their minds."

"Mom and dad are fine."

"No, mom and dad are pretending to be fine, and they do like Kurt and his dad, but they're really not okay with you dating a guy."

"Well they need to get used to it, because I'm only ever going to date guys. Or Kurt, anyway."

"Yeah, you'll date others."

"Maybe not," I said airily. "Maybe he's the one."

"Oh come on, Blaine. Grow up a little. You wanna be old enough to date a man ten years your senior then at least be realistic about it."

"I am."

"You're not but whatever. Tell me what it is you wanted to talk about."

I refused, and then Cooper got even more annoyed. I know it's always in the back of his head, those things he said to me that day at the lake, because it's in my mind too. I also think he realizes Kurt is the key to my happiness and you know why I think he has an issue with that? Because that means he isn't.

Until now, Cooper, mom and dad have been my life. Now, suddenly, I have something- or someone- else. Two people, in fact, if you count Burt, and I most definitely do. I get that it's hard for them to adjust to that, but at the same time, I think deep down they all know that it's better for me to get out there and enjoy all life has to offer.

We traveled the rest of the way in silence and then, when we stepped from the car, Cooper had put his arm around me and hugged me close. "I do want you to be happy, I hope you know that. And I don't have any issue with you being gay. I hope you know that, too."

"I do know that, yes. I also know I'm a burden and I'm sorry, but I don't have anyone else I can talk to about this."

"You're not a burden... I said sorry for that. Please talk with me. I'd hate myself if you and I drifted apart just because your boyfriend looks at me funny."

"He does not!"

"You can't see. He does."

I decided to let it slide, partly because I have a suspicion that Kurt is probably queen of the killer looks, and there's been quite a few moments of silence between him and Cooper, where I wonder if he's glaring at him. Weirdly, it doesn't bother me. They've hopefully got many years ahead of them to come to terms with each other.

Once we were settled with our coffees, I just came out with it. "I keep having wet dreams. About Kurt."

"Oh Jesus fuck, Blaine!"

"Cooper! I've never heard you curse!"

"Could you not have told me when we were in the car? Damn. Let's just... let's go over here. It's a little quieter."

"Are there people watching?"

"Listening, Blaine. Nevermind. What do they matter? Uh.. okay. Right. So. First of all, that's perfectly normal. Your body has had what's called an orgasm..."

"I know that! I'm not dumb. I know what it is, but how do I stop it? I have to give my laundry to mom because I can't do the machine, and I think she thinks I've got a problem."

"I'm sure she knows what's what."

"Don't say that. Please, don't say that. Just tell me how I stop it from happening."

"Well, you can't."

"Huh?"

"It's your subconscious reacting to the way you feel about Kurt. Nothing you can do about that, I'm afraid. It'll die down, probably, the more uh... well, the more you see him. I take it you two..."

"I've only kissed him, but I can't stop thinking about other stuff."

"Oh boy. Look, mom and dad will kill me for this, so don't ever tell them, but if you feel like you want to maybe start fooling around a little, then go for it. Why not? I was all over Mackenzie Lane when I was your age. Just be safe."

"But I'm not seeing Kurt for another two weeks at least, and even then I'm not allowed to be alone with him. And every time we talk, it's like normal conversation for so long and then it keeps taking this turn into something a whole lot more...adult, I guess. And then he hangs up."

"Ha! You know why he hangs up, don't you?"

"Yes I do, but I'm not about to do that."

"Well it would get it out your system before bed."

"Please stop, Cooper."

"Fine. But like I said, there's no harm in fooling around a little if you get the chance. I will say one thing though. Blaine, you're too precious to put out completely for someone unless you're sure they're going to be worth it so please, think long and hard about what steps you do want to take with Kurt, okay?"

"Okay," I said, picking up my drink. I didn't add that I already knew Kurt was worth everything, because I already knew he had my heart.

That had been three days ago, and my dreams had stopped since talking with Cooper. Probably my body was too embarrassed. Or depressed. Or both. I didn't tell Kurt I'd spoken with Cooper, but then I don't think that's necessarily something I need to divulge. Instead, we'd talked about the fashion shoot he'd been sent on, and how glad he was to be back in Brooklyn. For someone who was spending all weekend in the office, he was surprisingly upbeat. As with all our conversations, it somehow ended up with both of us getting hot and flustered, and Kurt telling me he needed to hang up and go use the bathroom.

Just thinking back to his tone of voice when he said that, makes heat pool in my belly, and I feel the now familiar stirrings of arousal, before my phone rings on my nightstand and jolts me back to reality.

"Hey."

"Hey." I know Kurt smiles, he always does, and it warms me. "What you doing?"

"I'm in bed."

"Lazy."

"Last day of summer. I'm allowed to be."

"True. What are your plans for today?"

"Not a lot. Dad and Cooper are working, mom's running a bake sale at church then she's at the senior center, so I guess I'll just play piano or read until she gets home. You don't normally call me so early."

"It's ten."

"Early."

He laughs. "I've been up since four."

"What? Whatever for? They got you on some crazy fashion shoot again?"

"No. I'm outside your house."

"What?" I sit up so fast that I turn dizzy, and then get tangled in my blankets as I struggle to get out of bed. "You're what? For real?"

"Yes, for real. Now get down here. I've got kisses."

For the first time ever, I tear recklessly down the stairs at top speed, forgetting the small table in the hallway. It collides hard with the top of my thigh and I give a loud yell, but it doesn't stop me stumbling to the door and pulling it open, where I fall into his waiting arms.

"Kurt!"

He doesn't respond verbally; instead he finds my lips with his own and kisses me over and over while guiding me back inside and closing the door.

"You...hurt...yourself?" he gets out between kisses.

"My leg. But..." I let my hands trail over the face I've missed so much. "Kurt..." I cut myself off before I can make a declaration that neither of us are ready to hear out loud, and I pull him close, framing his face with my hands as we kiss deeply. I feel him sag against me, his hands firm on my back, smoothing over my skin and then suddenly, he pulls back.

"Oh hell. You're just in the most teeny pair of boxer shorts, did you know that?"

"I wear them to bed."

I don't know why, but that seems to be the answer he was looking for because when he kisses me again it's lustful and hot. He backs me up against the wall, running his tongue into my mouth and all the while, his hands roam over my shoulders, down my sides and up over my chest.

I kiss back with just as much fervour. Hell, not five minutes ago I was lying in bed thinking of how hot he sounds on the phone and now Kurt is here, in front of me, devouring me.

I want it all, only I'm not exactly sure what that entails. I only know that he always feels sensational, and this time even more so, because I've missed him so much. I break the kiss, exploring his jawline with my lips, and down to the soft flesh of his neck.

"Blaine..."

Kurt's voice sounds different, kind of strangled, but in a good way, I hope. His nails dig into my chest and scrape downwards, which I take as a good sign, and his breathing is harsh in my ear.

"Blaine... Hold up."

"Why?" I'm dazed as I pull back, trying to figure out why he would end this when it's only just beginning. "There's no one here."

"I know, which means that I shouldn't be here, which means that we should go out, so that your parents can see that I'm doing right by you."

"Out. Yeah. Okay. I can do that."

"You need to get dressed."

"Right, yes." My brain won't catch up for some reason, and I mumble something about going upstairs to find clothes. "Can you help?"

"Help you dress?"

"Help tell me what matches. My doctor recommended sticking with fairly neutral colors, but I don't want a whole closet full of grays and browns. So can you pick something for me?"

"Sure."

He takes my hand and, let me tell you, there is nothing more sensuous that the feel of Kurt leading me upstairs to my bedroom, even though it's for an entirely innocent reason.

My parents and Cooper always tell me my room is nice, and Kurt passes comment on its tidiness and classic decor. "Do you like plaid?"

I grin. "There's a lot of it, huh? Cooper said so."

"Quite a bit, yeah, but it's a nice place. So clean."

"Because then I know where everything is, you see? Like I always take my watch off and put it here, on my desk, to the right of the computer keyboard, but away from the edge. My pens live in this pot, and I always get the same ones, so the black one has this raised bit where you hold it, but the blue is smooth. The red has a bumpy bit on the end...and pencils are pencils. Then over here..."

I turn and start walking to the nightstand and that's when Kurt says "Shit!"

"What?"

"Your leg. Damn, Blaine, you need to ice that. The bruise is awful already."

"It does hurt quite a bit," I admit, wincing as I rub a hand over it. "Is it in a line?"

"Yes, it matches the exact shape of the table. Lie back, I'll go find an ice pack."

"Freezer."

"Oh really, smart ass, you don't say?"

He leaves me, laughing all the way down the stairs, and pretty soon he's back, scaring the life out of me by placing the ice pack on my thigh without warning.

"Crap!"

"Sorry, sorry!"

"I can't see it coming, Kurt!"

"I know."

"What are you laughing at?"

"I'm not laughing."

"Okay, what are you trying not to laugh at?"

He gives in, laughing loudly. "You said crap, and I've never heard you... You don't curse. Ever."

"I think you do enough of that for the both of us. So, you want to tell me why you're here? Not that it isn't welcome, but it's a surprise."

"Hmm." He settles down on my bed next to me, holding the ice pack with one hand and playing with my hair with the other. His explanation for his arrival could be in Japanese for all I care. Kurt is lying on my bed, with me.

Amazing.

"Work owed me, because I did that dumb shoot and then offered to work all weekend. So I got to see you."

"You did it for me?"

"Us, yes. I have to be back tomorrow evening though, for a runway show. But I could maybe drive you to school tomorrow morning, if you wanted?"

I grin, and try my best to make my wandering eyes fix upon him. I know I'm bad at that, and I need to try harder. "That would be incredible. And thank you, for surprising me like this. I'm... I don't know. A little overwhelmed, I guess."

Kurt kisses my cheek, nuzzling against me for a moment. "I think I am too."

We take a moment, both of us reveling in the joy of being together once more. It's strange how it feels like I'm complete; like everything is right once more. That's the effect that Kurt's presence has on me.

"How does your leg feel?"

"Hmm. Okay. Not aching as bad. What does it look like?"

He sits up and moves the ice pack, and I hear him set it on the nightstand. Then I feel his fingers, gently pressing out the shape for me. "It's uh... Well, you'll feel it for a while. It's purpling already. Runs from here to here."

"You can kiss it better if you want."

He laughs, low and breathy. "Yeah... No, I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I won't be able to stop."

I swallow hard and reach out, rubbing my hand over his arm. "What if I don't want you to stop?"

There is silence, and I have no choice but to wait, not knowing if I've offended him, or terrified him, or what, but then the gentle touch of his lips come at the top of my thigh, just at the edge of the bruise.

I draw a sharp breath; his touch was unexpected but pleasurable, and then his lips press higher, right at the hem of my shorts. I almost feel lightheaded given the speed at which all my blood rushes south, but I try to calm my breathing, and I try not to let my hands shake too much as they rake through Kurt's hair.

"You have to tell me," he says quietly, his voice low and gravelly. "If it's too much, you have to say."

"I will."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"Okay," he whispers, then tugs my waistband down a little way, kissing both of my hipbones. "Okay."

He works his way up my body, stopping to kiss each ugly, raised scar, making each one beautiful and perfect, because they've been touched with love. I know my whole body is trembling by the time he reaches my shoulder, but when he kisses along my collarbone and up to my lips, I take the plunge and roll him over, pressing on top of him as we make out.

It's exactly what I've been dreaming of, and by the feel of Kurt beneath me, rising up, his hands roaming over my back, I'd say he's been hoping for a moment like this too. I try, so hard, to keep a level head, but there's something so inherently male about Kurt, so strong, yet so caring, that I have to break the kiss just to breathe and let things cool off.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, just..."

"I get it."

"Kurt?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I undress you?"

His hand cups my cheek for a moment; his voice soft and indulgent. "Of course you can. You don't need to ask."

"I don't want to assume, and I'm not sure if I'm going about this all wrong, or..."

"I want your hands on me, Blaine. Your touch is exquisite when you explore my face. The thought of that on my body? It keeps me awake at night."

"My problems happen when I go to sleep."

"And now it's for real."

"And now it's for real," I agree, as my fingers find the buttons on his shirt. I kneel between his legs, carefully opening his shirt, then helping him to sit so I can peel it from his shoulders.

My fingers are my eyes, usually, but this time it's my lips too, and Kurt lies back as I map out every contour of his chest with my fingertips and then my mouth, not even stopping when I unbutton his fly. I pull his pants off but leave his underwear in place and head for his thighs instead, kissing each one and then running a shaking hand over the bulge in the front of his briefs.

"You feel good," I say, and my voice doesn't sound like me at all. It's all breathy, shaking with nerves and anticipation. "Kurt, you feel really good."

A moan escapes his lips and then he pulls me down into a heated kiss, one that is full of desperation from both of us. He guides my hips until our erections are aligned and then he encourages me to grind against him.

"Fuck, Blaine..."

"Um, Kurt, I don't think I can..."

"Hold on," he whispers against my lips. "I know it feels so good but just try to hold on."

Easy for Kurt to say, when he's the one jerking off every five minutes. He's also the one who's had experience at this whereas I... I couldn't tell you my own name, when Kurt rolls us onto our sides and reaches a hand between us.

"Can I?"

"Yes. Oh God, yes."

We don't manage to fully lose our underwear. When Kurt reaches into my shorts and wraps a hand around me, I bite into his shoulder, sucking the flesh while I reciprocate his movements. I have no idea if my grip is too tight, too loose, too fast or too slow; I only know that Kurt's hand around me, frantically moving up and down, feels better than anything I could have imagined, and my orgasm approaches at lightning speed.

I have no time to give a warning; I can only give a shout of something that might vaguely sound like Kurt's name before I spill over and over into his fist. My whole body seems to pulse endlessly, and my breathing is so rapid that anyone would think I'd run a marathon, only I haven't, and I'm clutching onto my boyfriend, riding out intense shockwaves of pleasure before suddenly remembering that Kurt isn't done yet.

He guides me, and it only takes a few strokes before he's coming too; hot and wet, onto my hand and his stomach. "Blaine," he pants softly. "Oh Blaine... You..."

He doesn't finish, but falls onto his back instead, panting hard. Not knowing what to do, I lie next to him and he's quick to pull me into his embrace, kissing me tenderly, lovingly, then resting our foreheads together. I feel him smile against me. "You've stolen my heart," he admits. "That's what I was going to say. You've stolen my heart, Blaine, and I couldn't be happier."


	15. Chapter 15

Kurt

I didn't mean to ravage Blaine like that. It's just one of those things that happened. The second he said about kissing his thigh I knew I was done for. I can't resist Blaine at all. He could ask me to climb Everest, swim the Amazon, hike the Great Wall of China, and I'd agree. Hell, he could propose and I'd be booking the venue immediately.

There's something deeply intimate about Blaine exploring my body through touch. His lack of sight means he's more thorough, his lips and tongue more inquisitive, and his whole demeanour, as always, is loving and sweet. But, though he's gentle, he's hot as hell and, even as we lie sated in one another's arms, I feel an intense thrill when I think of what could come next.

As much as I didn't mean to ravish him, I also didn't mean to make a declaration of something akin to love... As much as I dare, anyway. It just fell from my lips before I had time to think it over. The second those words were out there, though, I panicked, convinced that he would stiffen and turn away.

He didn't. He beamed brightly then ducked his head, and when he looked up again, he had tears shimmering in his eyes.

"You mean that?"

"Yes."

"Because I feel the same, and I hope you know that."

He settled back down and we lay entwined together. Neither of us said much; we didn't need to. We just let time wash over us for a while, until Blaine shyly mentioned that he needed the bathroom.

"And we should go out, if we're going, before my mom returns."

"Sure. Do you need to call her? She'll be surprised if she gets back and you're missing."

"Can you write a note? If I call she'll try and talk me out of it, and then we'll end up spending the day under her supervision."

"I'll write a note then. Blaine? What we did just then..."

"Yes?"

"Was phenomenal."

He grins again and kisses me before pulling himself out of bed and heading to the bathroom. Stopping in the doorway he turns, not quite managing to focus on me, which only endears him to me further.

"Feel free to do that with me any time you choose."

Blaine's closet is neatly organized, but very colorful. I can see why he needs help to find things that match, and, after pulling out some bright blue shorts and a red and white t-shirt, I suggest to him that we spend some time reorganizing things.

"If you put, say, a navy shirt on a hanger, and then next to it the pants and shorts that matched, you'd always know you couldn't make a faux pas."

"That's a good idea, but can we do it another time?"

"Of course. Let's go."

"What do you want to do?"

I pin him against the wall at the top of the stairs, kissing him again, just because I can. "I've already made plans for us."

"Oh?"

"We're hiring bikes."

"We're what?"

"You heard. Come on. I have what we need."

"I can't ride a bike, Kurt! How on earth..."

"Not a regular bike, no, but we can ride a tandem together."

"What? No. Just no. Nope. It's not happening. The very thought scares me." He turns around to walk back to his room but I drag him back, and down the stairs, with him protesting all the while.

"Fine," I sigh, giving up. "We can wait here then, for your mom to come back, and then see what she suggests we do."

Still in a sulk, he glares over my shoulder, and sticks his tongue out for good measure. "We'll go. But if I die, I'll haunt you."

"Please do."

We drive to Heritage Park, and as we walk to the bike hire place, I describe the park to Blaine, telling him all about my trips here when I was a kid. "Am I boring you? I never know how much detail to give."

"You're not boring me at all, he says, squeezing my arm. "I like to hear you talk. And your descriptions are funny. Like most people would say there's a small skate park for kids, you say there's a skate park where you fell off your skateboard and cried until your dad gave in and bought you the tea set you wanted."

"It's true!"

"I don't doubt it."

I told Blaine he's stolen my heart. I didn't add that he keeps stealing it, over and over, flooding me with more depth of feeling and emotion than I ever thought it was possible to possess. I can't resist pulling him behind a tree to kiss him, because I just long for his touch all the time. I love to hear him laugh, I love to see his smile, or his frown as he thinks of something. I love the way he bites his lip, or tries to focus on me but never quite manages it. I love his wit, his wisdom, the tone of his voice.

I love the way he's prepared to step outside of his comfort zone like now, when he's standing next to me, clinging onto my arm with one hand and tugging uneasily on the straps of his helmet with the other as the hire guy explains to us about the trail and the bike itself.

"It's pretty flat, to be honest, but there is one noticeable incline about seven miles in."

"Seven miles!"

"Yes," he says, laughing at Blaine's horror. "And since you're in back, you'll notice it in your legs more than your carer will."

"He's not my carer. He's my boyfriend."

I turn to the man with a smile. "I do care for him, he's okay, but I'm not paid to do it."

"Sorry."

"Not at all."

"Like I said," he continues, clearing his throat awkwardly. "The hill is about seven miles in. The whole trail is thirteen miles total, and takes in three different parks. Enjoy it. The views are great, and the feeling of being out in the open air like that can't be beat."

Blaine looks unconvinced, but he lets me lead him over to the bike and gallantly finds the back seat and hooks his leg over. Neither me, or the hire guy, mention the family that had been waiting in line, but who disappeared when they heard Blaine announce we were a couple.

"You can ride a bike, right?" I ask Blaine as I finish adjusting my helmet. "So all you gotta do is pedal. I'll do the rest."

"Actually, no, I can't ride a bike," Blaine informs me, after I've paid for the hire and am actually sitting on the bike. "I never learned because I didn't like it."

"Oh." I think for a moment, then shrug my shoulders. "Ah well. All you gotta do is pedal."

Blaine is strong, with powerful thighs, as I've already discovered, and it takes no time at all for him to get the hang of cycling, though it does take some time for him to stop whimpering and moaning.

"I feel like I'm going to fall!"

"You won't fall," I call over my shoulder. "I'll keep us upright and straight, I swear."

"Nothing about us is straight."

"And aren't you glad?"

"Yes."

"Ooh, look at those birds!"

"How?"

"Sorry."

"Don't be. You've got real life to focus on whereas I can sit back here, pedalling, thinking of how hot you sounded when you came."

"Fucking hell, Blaine! I can't ride when I'm turned on."

"I'll bet you can."

"Blaine! What is with you?" Glancing over my shoulder, I see he's grinning, looking really pleased with himself for his boldness, and I let my right foot go back to try and kick him in the shin.

"Missed."

"How did you know I was trying to kick you?"

"I can feel the motion of the bike change, and then I felt the air from your badly misjudged efforts."

"You're so smug."

"Of course I am. Kurt, I'm seventeen, and I've just spent the morning fooling around in bed with my boyfriend who's ten years my senior. Not only that, but my boyfriend flew from New York to surprise me, because he knew how badly I needed to feel his lips on mine, to hold him in my arms, to touch his body, his face. Yeah, I'm smug."

"He sounds like quite the guy."

"He is," Blaine agrees with a smile in his voice. "He's the best. I'm going to... Is it nearly the hill?"

"Blaine, we've done about a quarter of a mile. You're going to what?"

"Nothing. I was just wondering when it's the hill."

"You were not. Tell me."

"No."

"I'll stop pedalling."

"No you won't."

So I do, just to prove my point, and Blaine carries on alone for as long as he can, but eventually he cries out in defeat and I pick up the pace again.

"Fine. I'm going to do all I can to keep you, that's all, because you're perfect to me, and I might only have known you a few short weeks, but I can't imagine my life without you in it."

I brake suddenly, and Blaine does well to stay seated, but I need to hold him, to kiss him and hope that my lips say everything that I can't just yet. I know I can't, because Blaine has his future ahead of him and I cannot, and will not, jeopardize that by telling him I've fallen for him so damn hard that I fear I might never get back up again.

He kisses me back and yes, I know he gets it, because I feel it from the touch of his lips and the way he fists the front of my shirt, pulling me close. I also know he's waiting for me to say something, so I whisper "You know you have my heart," and hope that will be enough.

It's nowhere near what I'd like to say.

Blaine is satisfied, though, which leads me to believe that he probably knows me much better than I realize. Hardly a surprise, given our endless phone calls, coupled with the fact that Blaine can read things from people's tone of voice.

We set off again, and it's really not long until the hill is upon us, and it really is a beast. "Is it enormous?"

"Not at all," I lie, and he laughs, knowing full well I'm stretching the truth.

"If I get us up there, can we stop when we're down the other side?"

"Only if we can find a good makeout spot."

"You're on."

And that's pretty much how the rest of the trail goes. We make deals with each other, that we'll stop at certain points, and then we sneak off into a field, or behind a tree, makeout a little, then get going again. It suits us both.

We're giddy with love; for each other, for the summer sun, for the biking trail, being together...all of it. I know we're sickening to watch, probably, but I find myself not caring, and Blaine adopts the attitude of 'what the eye does not see the heart cannot grieve over', so he holds my hand, he kisses me, he wraps his arms around me, and he simply doesn't worry about what anyone thinks.

"I never thought it'd be like this," he says as we emerge from a patch of long grass. "I thought I'd be paranoid, you know? Wondering what people think. But I can't let you go."

"Good. Then don't. Wanna come have dinner with me and dad tonight?"

"Yes."

"I'm pretty sure my bedroom has changed since you were last there. I'm not sure. I'll need you to check it out."

"Oh." He nods. "Sure."

He climbs back on the bike and I wait, but he's entirely oblivious.

"That was a joke, Blaine."

"Oh. OH!"

"There ya go!"

"How quick can we get this bike back?"

It does seem a shorter ride back, but it's fun, and we laugh a lot when the wind really picks up and we have to struggle against it. We're still laughing when we get back to Blaine's house and he shows me inside, where Lorna Anderson is waiting for us in the kitchen.

"Hey mom. Did you get Kurt's note?"

"I did. Hello, Kurt."

I don't miss the uneasiness in her eyes. I have a feeling that she's not happy to see me back home again; most likely she was hoping this would be a long distance relationship which meant we would only see each other very occasionally, but there's no chance of that now.

"Hey. Sorry I didn't give you notice that I'd be here. I wanted to surprise Blaine and take him out."

"So I understand from the note. Did you have fun?"

"We went on a bike ride, mom, it was amazing!"

She's trying, I realize as Blaine chats animatedly to her about how much fun it was to ride tandem. She can see how happy her son is, but she's not ready to let him go; much less into the arms of an older man. She smiles, and nods, and gives Blaine her undivided attention, but I also notice how, when he goes toward the fridge, she jumps up and opens it for him, opening and handing him an apple juice without even asking what he wanted. She guides him to a chair at the table, even though he could find it himself, and helps him to sit as if he were an invalid.

"Oh, and Kurt can drive me to school tomorrow, so you don't have to."

"Sweetie, I don't mind, really, it's no trouble. Don't make poor Kurt drive all the way over here so early."

"But I want him to drive me."

"Well you know, it's your first day of senior year. I need to come in and make sure you're settled. You won't be able to go in on your own."

"I could help him," I offer, in what I really hope is a kind tone and not a patronizing one. "It's just I fly back right after, so I can't see Blaine after school so..."

"Sure," she says, looking away momentarily. "I understand. Thank you, Kurt, that'll be great for Blaine. And... thank you for abiding by the rules and going out in public today," she adds, immediately flooding me with guilt. "I appreciate that."

"Not a problem," I mumble, turning read as Blaine's hand finds my knee under the table. "Would it be possible for Blaine to come to my house for dinner? I promise I'll have him home by nine."

"Tonight? But that's..." She swallows again. "Of course. Blaine, I take it that's what you want to do?"

"Yes please, mom."

She stands, crossing over to her son and kissing into his hair. "Then have fun."


	16. Chapter 16

Lorna Anderson

Something has changed between Blaine and Kurt, and I think I know what. I'm certainly not about to ask, but I will remind Marcus that he needs to talk with Blaine about abstinence and safety.

Since Blaine's insistent declaration that he is, in fact, gay, I've been talking with Marcus a lot. We're both of the same opinion; that we must love and accept our son no matter what and, if he really has to have a boyfriend, then Kurt is a good choice.

I like him, and when I read his note my first thought was happiness when I realized that Blaine must have been over the moon when he showed up. Then it turned to worry. When Kurt arrived, Blaine was home alone, and I know he likes to languish in bed in the morning, like most teenagers do. What if he was in bed when Kurt arrived?

I'm pretty sure he was, and I'm pretty sure that Kurt quickly joined him, because when they arrive home again they're flushed, their eyes are shining, and Blaine sits close to Kurt, constantly touching him in some manner. I test the waters, by thanking Kurt for taking Blaine out on a date in public, and he nearly bursts into flames, which confounds my suspicions.

I'm not silly, and I'm not a prude. I know Blaine will want to explore things, and I do struggle with the thought that being gay is not what God intended. But... if gay marriage is now legal, then surely gay christian men, such as Blaine, should be abstaining from sex until they are indeed, married?

I think anything I have to say on the matter will largely be ignored, which is why Blaine's dad needs to intervene, or Cooper needs to have a brotherly chat. Neither of them agree with abstinence, which always upsets me, but I need their support on this.

The thing no one understands is this; my little boy is vulnerable.

Oh sure, we all are to some extent, especially when we start feeling deep emotions for someone, but Blaine is more vulnerable than most. I held him when he was born, I watched him grow, and blossom into a promising young man with an incredibly bright future, and then I held him again as it all came crashing down.

It's taken Blaine three years to gain back just some of the confidence he once had, and I am thankful that Kurt is around to make him smile and feel good about himself, but I don't want him making himself vulnerable by handing over his heart to a man who, though a good, kind person, will probably date him for six months, take all he's got to give, and then walk away.

It's what gay men do. I read it on the internet.


	17. Chapter 17

Blaine

Kurt had me through his front door and up to his room before my feet could barely touch the floor. Burt was still at work, and I'm pretty sure that's why Kurt drove so fast, so that we'd have enough time together before he returned.

As it was, we didn't need long. Kurt says it's something to work on, and just laughed off the fact that this time I was done before his hand had even touched me. It's the feel of him grinding against me that does me in so quickly, so I suggested that next time we don't do that part and we try something else instead.

He said he's happy to try whatever I want.

I'm happy that he's happy.

It was good to be back at the Hummel house. I like it there, and I like Burt. I knew from the tone of his voice that he'd guessed that something had gone on between us, but surprisingly it didn't bother me. We just carried on as normal, and I know Kurt was impressed when I ate my meal sitting at the table with both of them without any worry or panic.

Kurt drove me home and parked up around the corner again. He was more languid this time as we made out on the back seat. Our kisses were lazy, slow, comforting. He said he wished we were in New York, curled up in bed together with no need to move for the rest of the evening. I wished that too, and I know I became distracted while I thought about it, because he had to ask me twice if I was okay.

When I get home, with the taste of Kurt still on my lips, I head right up to my room. I know my parents will be disappointed, but I want time to decompress; to work through the events of the day in my head, because once again, after only a few hours in the company of Kurt, a lot has changed.

It's late when a knock comes at my bedroom door. So late, in fact, that I'd assumed they'd let me be, so I was in bed already.

"Blaine?" my dad asks, tentatively pushing open the door. "Got time for a chat, buddy?"

"I was just going to sleep."

"I realize that, but your mom wanted me to check in with you. I think she's a little worried."

"I haven't done anything wrong."

"Of course not. Can I come in?"

I sit up, finding the lamp and flicking it on. "I guess."

"So," he starts, and I know whatever it is he's about to say is making him feel awkward as hell. "How's Kurt?"

"Good."

"Uh-huh. Pretty neat of him to fly in and surprise you like that, huh?"

I smile. I can't help it. "Yeah. It was uh... It was cool."

"So you think he's serious about you?"

"Why wouldn't he be?"

"No reason," dad quickly says. "I just... Well, you know, your mom and I... We're still trying to come to terms with all this, so..."

"Cooper says you're not okay with it, that you're just pretending so that I'll be happy."

"I wouldn't say that. It's not easy, but I wouldn't say I'm not okay with it. Partly okay, maybe? Still trying to get my head around it, that's for sure. I like Kurt, and I was genuinely sorry I missed him today. I'm guessing you like him a fair bit too."

"Well duh."

"Point taken. Look, Blaine, I need to ask... Did something happen today, between you and Kurt?"

"Did we fight?"

"Did you sleep together?"

"Oh." For a moment, I contemplate lying, but I really hate lying to my parents and, given that my dad's just been honest with me, I feel like I owe it to be open in return. "Uh... We didn't... All the way," I manage to stammer out. I feel nervous sweat forming across my forehead and under my arms, and I pull the duvet back.

"What happened to your leg?"

"Oh. I ran down the stairs and hit the table. I forgot it was there. Kurt was at the door, so... I put ice on it."

"You did, or he did?"

"He did."

"Is this what you were dressed like when he arrived?"

"Not these shorts, a different pair."

"Blaine."

"Yes. But that doesn't mean he was wrong," I add quickly, because I know what he's thinking. "He said we needed to go out, only then he saw my leg, so he put ice on it and...and I initiated everything... Stuff... I initiated stuff between us."

"Right."

Then there is silence. Let me tell you, it's annoying enough for sighted people but it's even worse when you're blind with no clue whether the other person is waiting on you, or thinking what to say, or whether they're just staring off into space.

"Okay Blaine, listen to me," he eventually says. "I'm surprised, I guess, but not mad, and I want you to recognize that. Surprised that you initiated everything, that you felt ready for that step. I don't know what you did, and I'm not going to ask, but I'm guessing it ended...satisfactorily for both of you."

"Daaad!"

"No, no, hear me out. Your mom wanted me to talk with you because she guessed, you see. She said things were different between you and Kurt. There was a greater intimacy and really, if you're going to be taking those steps together, then that's good. A greater intimacy is what you should want to achieve. But this is only the third date you've had with him."

"But we talk every day!" I protest, needing him to understand. "It's not like we don't know each other, or feel those things for each other, because for nearly three weeks we've had an hour each day where we just talk, and that's been...that's been wonderful."

Dad clears his throat, then shuffles about until he's sitting on the bed next to me, leaning back against the pillows. "I guess I didn't think of that."

"I'm not...I don't know. I'm not a tramp."

He laughs, and ruffles my hair. "I do know that, Blaine. Really. I think your mom was just surprised that you'd fall into bed with him, given your faith."

"Huh?"

"Your uh...your faith?"

I frown, then grimace, then frown again. "Dad...I'm not a christian. I mean...you are, and mom, but Cooper and I... No."

"Cooper's not either?"

"No! Don't you know how many girls he's chased?"

"Well, yes, but he's met a lot of those through church activities and... Right. I see."

"Sorry."

"No... No... Don't be. You're still my boy. A good kid."

"God hates gay people."

Dad laughs again. "No he doesn't. People would like to think that, but God loves everyone. He's a good guy. He wants you to be happy, just as I do."

"I don't think he does, actually." I run my hand into my hair, tracing over the enormous scar. "Because if he did, then this wouldn't have happened. It's hard to have faith in God when you're nearly killed, left without sight, and you're gay."

"I don't know why it happened," dad says, his voice heavy with sadness. He takes my hand away and replaces it with his own, tracing the long line that divides my skull in half. "But I do know this. If you'd not been blinded, the chances are you wouldn't have been at the lake with your brother that day when you met Kurt. You wouldn't be as aware of him, of his feelings for you, because you wouldn't have been able to read him so well. You wouldn't be content to spend an hour a day talking with him, either. It'd all be on social media, or skyping each other, but as it is, you've both made the effort to talk. You wouldn't find simple pleasures in life, Blaine, you'd just be like every other kid out there. A tandem bike ride? Would you find that so exciting? Losing your sight was...is...a terrible thing, but it might just have brought you one of your biggest blessings."

I nod slowly, letting his words sink in. "Thank you, dad."

"Being blind also means you can't see the hickeys on your neck and chest, but I can."

"Oh."

"Just make sure to wear a shirt around mom until I tell you otherwise. I think it's best that we don't tell her what you told me, okay? I'll say I've spoken with you, and you're thinking things over, but that I think you'll be sensible."

"I like that idea."

"But Blaine? Do be sensible, please. Whatever you do, be safe. I'm pretty sure Kurt has his heart in the right place, and I'm sure he's aware of things, but you're that much younger and inexperienced."

"Cooper said that. What is it that's such a big deal?"

"Are you asking me about the physical action or the emotional side?"

"Both, I guess."

"Oh gosh. Well... Ahem. I'm glad you're blind sometimes, you know that?"

"Dad!" I shove him and he laughs, pulling me tight against him and kissing into my hair.

"Only because you can't stare at me while I flail around and try to explain things. Obviously I've never... With a guy. Burt! You could talk with Burt about this."

"What? No! I don't think he's been with a guy either!"

"But he's explained it to Kurt, surely?"

"He's his son! And I'm not discussing sex with my boyfriend's dad!"

"Point taken. I wonder if there's braille pamphlets available?"

"Forget it."

"No, no. Look, Blaine, physically, I think it's probably something where you have to really trust the other person. I mean, it's probably a little painful, I guess? And it's making you vulnerable, isn't it? Whether you are the one... Um... Whether you're... Gosh. Giving or receiving? I don't know the terminology, but whichever part you play in it, you are giving yourself over to someone, really connecting with them in that moment. Some people can switch off from their emotion and just focus on the physical pleasure, but I know you, you're my kid, and you feel with your heart. That's what's important, that you treasure Kurt, and respect him, and that he does the same in return. If you do go all the way with him, I want you to remember it with fondness, whatever happens in the future between you. I don't ever want you to use it against him, or speak badly of your time with him, because I wouldn't want to think of him doing that to you. I guess that's the main thing to consider. That you're both ready to share that kind of vulnerability."

"I don't think we are just yet."

"Good. Well... That sounds... I mean I think that's a very sensible answer. I have no doubt that it will happen, but I'm glad you're adult enough to think it all over."

"I like the fooling around bit, though. Cooper told me I would."

"Did he now? Well... Yes. It has its own benefits."

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"I think I'm falling in love with him."

"And you don't mean Cooper, do you?"

"Ew!"

He laughs, sounding, oddly enough, happier than I've heard him in a long time. He gets up from my bed and I hear the light being turned off. "I figured as much. I've never seen someone swoon quite so much as you do whenever Kurt's name is mentioned. Goodnight, Blaine. Sweet dreams."

My dreams are sweet indeed. Over the past three years the visuals have stopped apart from vague shapes that I can't really recognize, but I do hear sound, and that night I hear Kurt and my dad, laughing together, and Kurt teasing me for swooning. I wake well before my alarm, and with a big grin on my face.

Going back to school has never felt so sweet. I know I'm the object of attention, I don't need to see to know that people stare when my mom pulls up each day and helps me from the car. I've told her not to but she does it regardless. She has, at least, stopped walking me into the building, and now leaves me at the top of the steps.

But today, I'm happy for people to stare.

"Are you sure?" Kurt says when I tell him this. "No one knows you're gay. Seeing me might just prompt ridicule and I don't want that for you."

"No it won't."

"But you don't have friends, Blaine, anyone to stand up for you."

"So? No one's going to laugh at me, Kurt, they'll all be in awe of the hot guy on my arm."

"I look like a hot mess this morning."

"But you're my hot mess. You know what?"

"What?"

"I think that the way you say my name as you come is my new favorite thing."

"Jesus, Blaine! Why do you always do this? It's like you save your bombshells for when I'm driving." He laughs loudly, and his hand finds mine, squeezing my fingers. "I'm glad you like it."

"I told my dad that we'd done stuff."

"And there you go again!"he shrieks, and the car turns left. "Time for a coffee before school, I think."

I tell Kurt everything, except for the part where I said I was falling for him. I don't want to scare him away, and I know he'd think it's a little silly to say that after such a short time. Still, he's impressed with the whole conversation and tells me he admires my honesty.

"How do you feel now?"

"Really good," I tell him truthfully. "I'm not expecting mom to be fully on board, but she's trying, and dad is surprising both of us, I think, with his awesomeness. Yeah. I feel like everything's going my way, for the first time in a long time."

"Good."

"What about you? How are you feeling?"

"A little mixed up, to be honest," he says with a sigh. "Not wanting to go back...to leave you... I don't know. I feel...heavy."

"Anything I can help you with?"

"Have you thought any more about college?"

"Yup. I'm going to visit Cleveland next weekend, and Cincinnati."

"Really? I didn't know that."

"Hmm, well, we were busy."

"So you're staying in State?"

"I think so. I mean there's always a possibility of going someplace else, I guess, but..."

Kurt scrapes his chair back quickly and stands up. "Come on then. School."

By the time we arrive at school, both of us are silent and solemn, not wanting to deal with the imminent goodbye. Kurt doesn't help me from the car; he knows what I'm capable of, but he does offer his arm so I can navigate the steps more easily.

"Want me to come in with you, or do you know where you're going?"

"I know the layout. I'm pretty sure I can find my new homeroom, and I can ask someone if not."

"Okay. Well..."

"Will I see you soon?"

"I don't know."

"Oh." It wasn't the answer I was expecting and it floors me for a moment. "Um..."

"I have work, Blaine. My life is in New York, your life is here. There's not a lot I can do about that."

"No, I know. I just thought... You said you come back a lot to see your dad and..."

"Yeah, well...There's Milan Fashion Week, then Paris..."

"I see."

"So... I don't know. I'll come back some time after that, I guess. You wouldn't want me around too often, anyway. I'm needy, and clingy, and I'd irritate you immensely."

Overwhelmed with everything, particularly the irritation I can hear on his voice, I swallow down the tears I can feel threatening. "I think you're divine." I pull him into my arms as students rush past all around us. "I do understand," I say softly into his ear. "Please don't worry about me. You had your life established well before I came along and disrupted it, so don't make a special effort to get back. I'm still amazed you turned up yesterday and surprised me like you did. It was the best thing and..."

Unable to complete the sentence, I frame his face with my hands and kiss him tenderly on the lips. I can feel him shaking beneath my touch, and then I feel his tears running down over my thumbs. "Oh Kurt."

"I have to go," he chokes out. "People are staring and the bell will ring soon so... I have to go."

"Call me later?"

"Do you want me to?"

"Of course I do."

"Then I will." He kisses me again. I know he wants to make it last, but he forces himself to pull back, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Good luck with the college visits."

"Thank you. Hey, you know..."

But I suddenly become aware that Kurt has gone, and I'm standing in the busy hallway, talking to no one.


	18. Chapter 18

Kurt

My tears take me from the school, to the airport, onto my flight, and back to my apartment, where they continue on and off for days, sometimes even making an appearance at work when my mind wanders to the image of Blaine, standing alone and vulnerable in the school hallway as I turned tail and fled.

The bullying started, as I knew it would. When I called him that evening he said the day had been tougher than expected. When I pushed him, he admitted that he'd been called a faggot by several kids that day, but of course, he's unable to identify who. He doesn't know anyone well enough to recognize their voices.

He's miserable, and I'm miserable, and I'm not sure that either of us are capable of reconciling this. How can we? Blaine's been to visit Cleveland and Cincinnati now, and says he'll be happy to attend either. So nothing will change. He'll be in Ohio, and I'll be here. I love my job, my apartment, my friends, my city. He wants and needs his college education, and that means that we're not going to be seeing each other on a regular basis for five years, at least. And what happens then, if we even make it that far?

"Get up," Rachel announces, pushing her way into my room where I've been languishing since arriving home from work yesterday. "It's a beautiful Saturday, none of us are working, so we're going out."

"Fuck off."

"No." I groan when Santana joins her, ripping my duvet off me and throwing it onto the floor. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Oh but you are. Rachel and I want to take a trip to Long Beach."

"That's so far"

"Jesus Christ, Kurt! We're twenty seven year old millennials with not much, but some, disposable income. No ties, no kids, no partners...except for your plaything, so just get up and come enjoy the day with us."

"No."

"Fine," Rachel says, nose in the air. "Then I'm calling your dad."

It's that threat that gets me up and out of the apartment, though I purposely stay in a sulk for nearly the entire train ride, until Rachel promises me we can eat at the seafood place I liked last time we visited.

"Oh my god, you were dating Brantley then. Do you remember?"

"Yes." I give in and laugh, holding my head in my hands. "That was a disaster."

"I wouldn't call it a disaster. He proposed!"

"Yes, after five dates, and he'd been completely wasted for all of them!"

"Was he a good lay?" Santana asks as we head to the boardwalk. "He always looked like he would be."

"He was okay, I guess. I've had worse." I pause, giving a wink. "I've had better."

"Blaine?"

My heart sinks at the mere mention of his name. Santana and Rachel know, of course they do. It's been two weeks of hell for them as I mope around. "Blaine is... Different."

"Virginal? Scared? Crap?"

"Aw, that's not fair. Virginal yes, of course, but you know what? I felt the same goddamn way. Usually I'd fuck a guy but Blaine... We didn't... I don't know. It wasn't about that at all. He gave me the best, most intimate and honest experience I've ever shared with anyone. You know me. You know I hate feeling vulnerable but with him? I felt it, and I wanted to feel it, because he took over my soul."

I become aware that we've stopped walking, and I glance over my shoulder just in time to see both girls share a look. "What?"

"I've never heard you speak like that," Santana says honestly, and she links her arm through mine as we walk along. "You're totally in love, you know that?"

"I can't be." I give a sad smile at Rachel as she joins me on my other side. "Because for him, this is a first romance. Intense, yes, but fun, fancy-free, frivolous. I don't figure in his future like...at all. And that's not his fault, that not him being careless, or inconsiderate. That's him being a seventeen year old guy who is focusing on finding himself and thinking about moving away to college. That's how it should be, that's what I was like."

"But you wish you did figure in his plans, right?"

"Right." I sigh, looking out across the water.

"So what's it like now?" Santana asks. "You're still talking, right? Still together?"

"Yes, and yes, but it's becoming painful. Blaine just carries on like everything is fine and it's not! It's not fine at all. He's so relentlessly happy and upbeat, even as he's telling me that his head was smashed into a locker and he was called a butt boy, he's laughing, saying he probably had it coming because he kissed me, but he doesn't care. Then he goes on about how it won't be like that at college, and his dumbass brother is taking him back to Cleveland this weekend to meet with a couple of the professors, and he'll be able to study English and Music combined and blah blah blah and all I want to do is tell him that I've fallen for him so fucking hard that it hurts and can he please reassure me that he's not going to dump me when he moves to college. Ah...FUCK! I sound like a kid! A lovesick teenager!"

"I think you should tell him this," Rachel says, and I shoot her a withering look. "I do! He's just as hooked on you, I'll bet."

"He isn't. You know I told him he had my heart? Well, he said he felt the same but then? I tried to test the water a little bit, by saying how I wished we were in New York together, curled up in bed and honestly, he became really uneasy. He couldn't speak, and I had to ask twice if he was okay before he eventually mumbled something about needing to get home. Then he just casually dropped into the conversation that he was visiting colleges, but he didn't mention us at all."

"I think Rachel's right," Santana surprisingly declares. We're nearly at the end of the boardwalk and we sit together on a bench. "I think he's smitten, but doesn't necessarily realize it yet."

"Thanks for the input," I tell them stiffly, as I blink back tears, "But I'm afraid you're wrong."

My dad calls me the next day. "Wanna tell me what's going on?" he booms, which means I really have no choice in the matter at all.

"Nothing."

"Don't give me that, the boy's a wreck."

"He is?"

"Why d'ya sound so happy about that? He says you're being all weird when you call."

"I'm not, and hey, I'm still calling him, right?"

"You didn't call him yesterday. I warned you, Kurt. You mess him around and I'll come down on you hard. He's dealing with a lot right now and he doesn't need you hurting him too. Now whatever it is you're thinking, or feeling, either talk with me about it or sort it out on your own, but work through it for god's sake."

"How do you know all this? About Blaine, I mean, how he feels?"

"We went fishing yesterday. Blaine, me, his dad, Pete and grandpa. And Blaine and his parents went to church this morning with Pete and Ruth."

"What? Why?"

"Because I like them, and so does Ruth."

"Stay out of my life, dad. Blaine has made it perfectly clear that he's happy with how casual things are at the moment, so that's the way they'll stay."

"He's what?" The amazement in my dad's voice makes me sit up and take notice. "He said that?"

"N-no... But..."

"Kurt, sunshine, let me tell you this. Right now, Blaine is pining for you, and he thinks you're deliberately distancing yourself. He can't work out why, and he's hurting because of it. Honestly? I think if you proposed tomorrow he'd be dragging you right down that altar. I think there might have been a big misunderstanding here."

I'm unable to take it all in as I hear my dad speaking. "I gotta... I gotta call Blaine," I say weakly, and hang up quickly.

He answers on the first ring, and the sound of his voice warms me instantly, as it always does. Closing my bedroom door, I curl up on my bed, the phone pressed to my ear. "Hey hot stuff."

He laughs. "I like it when you call me that. How are you?"

"I'm okay, I guess. I don't know. Not great, maybe."

"Oh. What you been doing?"

"Today? Not a lot. Catching up on work, mainly. Yesterday I went to Long Beach with the girls. It was nice, we walked along the boardwalk and got ice cream."

"Sounds fun. Wish I could have been there."

"Me too. Blaine..."

"You didn't call me yesterday."

"No." I pause. I'm pretty sure I can hear the hurt in his voice and in turn, that makes my stomach twist unpleasantly. Truth be told, I didn't call because I thought I'd end up blurting out my innermost fears and feelings but now, given all that dad said, I wonder if that really would have been so bad? "I was busy," I start lamely. "I..."

"Oh that's cool," Blaine chirrups. "I mean, I was busy too, you know? I went fishing with your dad."

"He said."

"We had such a great time. I've never been fishing before, but it was fun. Turns out I can hook a worm quite well." He laughs cheerily. "So that was kinda my job for the whole day. Just baiting hooks. But I didn't mind. Dad really hit it off with your uncle, I think. Him and mom went to their church today."

"Yeah. Dad told me. Listen, Blaine..."

"And you know what? Your dad's coming to my first dodgeball game in a couple of weeks. And he reminded me to find out if Cleveland has a team. That's like... I didn't think of that! So that's cool. I'm going to ask when we visit. Cooper said..."

And he's off. Launching into a happy monologue of all the exciting, enjoyable things that are happening in his life. He's not a guy who's pining, or hurting, or worried about me being distant at all. He's a guy who's got the world at his feet. I think...or hope...that his experiences with me has given him a boost of confidence. If that's the case, then I'm glad. All I want is for him to be happy, and from the first time I met him I knew he had this grit and determination inside of him, all he had to do was harness it.

Well, now he has, so can I really be that sad if he's drifting away from me? Of course I can't. Blaine could, should, and will, light up the sky. Just like his parents, he's a good guy with a good heart... It's just that I'm not sure I figure in that heart quite as much as he figures in mine, and as much as I try and deny it, that hurts.

I listen to him now, telling me how his mom is looking into scholarships for him, and how the music department at Cleveland told him they'd be honored to receive his application. He rambles on, barely pausing for breath as I wipe at a never ending stream of tears.

I want to get on a plane, right now, and be at Blaine's front door before he goes to bed. I want to hold him in my arms and tell him just what he means to me; explain how hard and how fast I have fallen and I want to beg for his reassurance, that I mean something, that I figure.

All I've ever wanted is to be another person's something. Their why, their wherefore, their reason. I didn't know, however, how desperately I would need for that person to be Blaine, and I certainly didn't realize how painful it would be when suddenly it becomes apparent that that's not the case.

"So, Blaine? I think I need to go."

"Huh? Oh. Oh, right."

"Sorry. It's just..."

"I know."

"Okay. I'll call soon."

I hang up, and I don't call for another three days.

When I pluck up the courage to dial, there's no answer, and so four days go by, five, six, seven.

Blaine doesn't contact me at all.

I find myself in the same position that I was a week ago; curled up on my bed, cradling my phone, wondering if I call this time, will he answer?

I don't get to find out, though, because the phone rings in my hand, making me jump, and I answer the number I don't recognize.

"Hello?"

"Kurt?"

"Yes."

"Cooper Anderson. We need to talk."


	19. Chapter 19

Blaine

I should have known. When something in my life starts going great, it inevitably means that soon everything will come crashing down and it'll all be worse than ever. Case in point; when I was fourteen years old, happy, well-liked, confident. Sure of my sexuality, working on my parent's acceptance, happily reliant on my supportive, caring brother...and then I got hit by a truck and the world went black.

Now? Now it's taken me three years to reclaim that happiness and surety. It's taken me three years to find the courage to be myself again, and finally, just when I figured this was it, that I actually could be happy, school becomes hell and Kurt dumps me.

Okay, so he hasn't exactly said those words, but he doesn't need to. He's not called in days, and the one time he did call, I was in the shower, so then I waited, only he didn't call back.

What gets me the most, is that I've been trying so damn hard to make out like everything is fine, because I didn't want him to get mad at me, or think I was annoying. Turns out he thought that anyway, and I didn't even need to anything to make him think that way.

When Burt called and invited dad and I to go fishing, I was horrified at the thought of fishing, but happy that I'd get to spend time with him. Burt is very intuitive, and he knew right away that I wanted to talk with him alone, so once everyone was set up, he suddenly 'remembered' that he'd left beers in his truck and asked me if I wanted to walk back with him, since I couldn't see the fish anyway.

That's another reason I like Burt; he doesn't think before he speaks and the results are often hilarious.

"What's up?" he asked, as soon as we were out of earshot.

"I don't know, really. I don't know where to begin. I think Kurt hates me."

"Ha! You ignorant as well as blind? He's head over heels for ya. What makes you think that?"

"Well... the day he took me to school, he was all...weird. And then he just left, and I was talking to no one. Ever since then, when we speak on the phone, he's off. Distracted, making lame excuses to end the call early, and it's no fun, you know? We used to talk for so long, and make dumb jokes, or just laugh about stuff on TV, or things we'd heard or done that day. It was genuinely a joy to talk with him, and now it's a chore. For both of us. He just sounds so bored of me."

"Hmm. So what do you two talk about, then?"

"College, mainly. School. We used to talk about his job a lot too, but he barely mentions it at all now, or his roommates."

"And when you're talking... How are you? Happy, miserable, what?"

"Happy! Always happy! I don't want to tell him the truth."

"Which is?"

I paused when he released my arm; we were back at the truck and I heard him collecting the beers from the back seat.

"Sunshine?"

"Everything's really... Not very nice," I admitted in a whisper, and then I started to cry. I tried to ignore it, but Burt's a hugger, and before I knew it I was crushed against his chest and he was encouraging me to let it all out.

So I did.

"I miss him terribly. It hurts! And I don't want it to hurt, but it does. Then I think about going to college, and I think it's only going to get worse, isn't it? Kurt's going to get more distant, we'll both be busy, I'll never be brave enough to go to New York, and it'll all fall apart. I'm never going to make friends. Not in this dumbass state, anyway. I kissed Kurt, that day, at school," I admitted. "Because he was leaving, you know? And I wanted to kiss him goodbye. I've never heard the end of it since."

"Is that how you got that cut?"

I touched the raised, tender bruise above my eyebrow, feeling the cut where it was starting to heal. "Yeah. Oh, but don't tell dad. We've just gotten really close and I don't want him disappointed in me."

"He wouldn't be disappointed in you, Blaine. He'd be mad at those bullies. Just like I am."

"He'd also point out that if I kept my sexuality hidden, then this wouldn't happen."

Burt went quiet. He knew, as well as I did, that what I was saying was right. We had walked slowly back, my arm linked through his, my tears drying behind my sunglasses.

"Blaine...I think Kurt is dealing with his feelings toward you right now, and I think he's finding it all pretty rough."

"Rough? Why?"

"Because he wasn't expecting to feel so much, maybe? Not so soon, anyhow. I don't know, kid. When he was growing up he always wanted to be out of Lima- or Ohio- for good. When he moved to New York he begged me to move there too, but I'm settled here. Over the years, he's drifted back more and more. I think... I think he loves his job, his roommates, and certainly the city, but it's missing an anchor for him; something that makes him call that place home."

"You?"

"Oh, I was his anchor for many years, but he's an adult now. He needs something, or someone else."

"Oh."

"That's you, Blaine."

"Huh?"

"I think you're his anchor, and it scares him because you're so young."

"But I..." I stopped, letting his words wash over me and then suddenly, I grinned. "I think I'd quite like to be his anchor, actually."

"So tell him that."

"He might think I'm pushing too much, you know? I don't want to appear too keen if he's already having second thoughts."

"He's not. Trust me."

So I'd trusted Burt, and when Kurt called, I tried to be as happy and upbeat as I could be, while working my way around to saying what I needed to. But then he'd suddenly cut me off, and to me, it seemed as though there was someone else there with him.

My fears were only confounded when he didn't call, and he still hasn't, which is what makes me think I've been dumped.

My dad has asked a couple of times if I'm okay, and mom is back to her usual smothering self, so I know they've guessed something's up. School continues to be hell; name calling, mindless shoving into lockers, or a random foot stuck out so I trip... little things that all add up to one miserable existence which isn't even alleviated by having Kurt's calls to look forward to.

After a week drags by, I call my brother. "I'm a burden, I know, but..."

"Blaine! For the love of god, I said I was sorry!"

"Please help me."

"Now?" he sighs. "I'm supposed to be..."

"Okay. Don't worry about it."

He calls me back a half hour later. "I'm on my way. Thought we could tell mom and dad we're going for pizza."

"You're busy."

"I'm not any more."

"Can we get pizza for real?"

"Yes."

Of course, mom and dad are fine with me going out for pizza with Cooper, even though it ruins their dinner plans. In their eyes, Kurt hasn't been spoken about for nearly two weeks and I'm back spending time with my brother. Everything's normal again.

"You need to stand up for yourself," Cooper tells me over dinner. "When I said I was busy you didn't force the issue, you just took it lying down. Don't."

"But you said you were doing something."

"So? You needed me, so say 'actually, Coop, it's important.' Or some such thing. Make people aware of your thoughts and feelings, Blaine, otherwise you'll get trampled on. I hung up, thought about it, and cancelled my date. Other people won't think about it and will just assume everything's fine."

"Everything's not fine."

"I figured. So spill."

My answer probably takes far longer than it should, but in all honesty I've been waiting to talk to someone about it, and so I don't leave any detail out. I tell him everything, from how good things were when Kurt made his brief visit, to how weird everything went, what Burt thought, and how Kurt now hasn't called me for days. I tell him about school, too, and how I'm sure it's going to be the same in college, how wherever I go I feel like this is going to be it for me; I'll always have a hard time if I admit my sexuality.

"You realize you've been sitting here, talking with me, and in that time you've also put away four slices of pizza?" Cooper asks when I'm done. "You, who wouldn't ever go out for dinner because you were worried people would stare."

"Did I make a mess?"

"You have sauce on your chin, but so do I. Here." He hands me a napkin and waits for me to be done. "You're so much more confident, you know? I mean, there's still work to be done, but you've known Kurt what? Two months, and already he's brought out the best in you."

"Well, it was kinda Burt with the whole eating thing, but yeah...Kurt always tells me I can do stuff, you know? He pushes me on."

"Think that's what he's doing now?"

"What?"

"Pushing you out of the nest. Distancing himself so that you have a chance to shine?"

"I don't want him to do that, though."

"Clearly. You need to tell him that, though."

"I can't."

"You can. And you know what else? Don't live your whole damn life worried about what other people think of you. The ones that matter will love you anyway. Look at mom and dad. They don't like the fact that you're gay, but they love you, and they want you to be happy. If you meet mindless morons who want to try and make your life hell because you like guys instead of girls then they're not worth caring about. And hell, if you think it'll be like this all over Ohio, then go to college in a more liberal state."

"I could...but the cost..."

"Screw the cost. You have a college fund which should be pretty healthy, and a scholarship is bound to come your way."

"And Kurt? What happens if I end up even further away from him than I am now?"

"I think you two need to sit down and talk this out, face to face. Both of you need to be honest."

"Sure, but I can't demand he flies back here again."

"No, but you can fly there."

"New York?" I'm aware that my voice is nothing more than an hysterical squeak, but I'm instantly filled with fear. "No. Too many people, too much noise...No."

"I'll come with you."

"What?"

"I've been looking for a way to say sorry for that awful remark I made, so that's what I'll do. I'll talk to mom and dad with you, and I'll take you to New York so that you can see Kurt."

It's not hard to predict that my parents hit the roof (almost literally) when Cooper told them of our plans. The tone to my mom's voice bordered on the completely hysterical as she repeated over and over that New York was not a safe place for anyone, much less a blind boy. I'm sure it was well meaning, but it really hurt.

"Cooper would be with me! And Kurt!"

"And that's another thing that worries me," she snapped. "Kurt! As lovely as he is, I know that both of you will see this as an opportunity to jump into bed together away from the watchful eyes of your parents, and that opens up a whole other can of worms."

"Cooper said we'd stay in a hotel. Kurt has roommates. I wouldn't be staying with him. Please, mom, I'm begging you. It's just for a weekend."

"No."

"Let the boys go, Lorna."

My dad's voice is calm and assured, and I hold my breath in anticipation of what he might say next. "Kurt means an awful lot to Blaine, and if they're having issues then I agree with Cooper, they need to have a chance to talk it out. Blaine can't expect Kurt to keep coming here all the time. Plus, it'll give Blaine the chance to see what it's like in a strange city, maybe give him a clearer idea of whether he'd like to go to a larger or smaller city for college."

"Are you out of your mind? You're giving our teenage son permission to fly to New York City to get up to all sorts with a man ten years his senior?"

"No, I'm encouraging him to tackle his relationship difficulties head on, as you and I have always done, and as we're no doubt going to do tonight, once Blaine is in bed. He turns eighteen in two months, Lorna. We can't baby him forever."

"Your minds are all made up," mom says as she starts to cry. "I have no say in the matter at all."

"It's my mind that's made up," I say, reaching out for her hand. "I want to go."

That's not strictly true. The thought of going to New York terrifies me, and what scares me even more is the fact that I might get there only to hear from Kurt that it is indeed, all over between us, but I feel like it's a chance I need to take because whatever the outcome, I need to know that I tried.

"And what does Kurt say about all of this?" mom asks, still distraught. "And his dad?"

"Um..."

"You haven't asked him?"

"The thing is, Cooper just suggested it this afternoon, and Kurt and I haven't spoken for a while so..."

"I'll call him," Cooper volunteers. "Burt too. Just to keep him informed. Mom, I know you're finding this tough but please. The way I see it, we all three have a direct choice here; either we love and accept Blaine, and who he chooses to be with, or we don't, and if we don't, we accept the fact that ultimately, we will drive him away."

There's a long, stretched out silence. The kind that I hate, but I sit totally still, not daring to even breathe too loud.

"Fine," mom whispers eventually. "You go. But the responsibility for Blaine's welfare is entirely on your shoulders, Cooper, do you hear me?"

"Yes mom," he answers, finding my hand under the table and squeezing it. "I do."

In that moment, my brother comes back to me. Not the brother who found me a burden, or the brother who was laden with guilt over the car crash, but my brother, the one who was always on my side, my confidant, my champion, my friend.

"You've redeemed yourself," I tell him as I say goodbye to him that night, and he hugs me so hard that I think he might never let go.

I'm sent to bed; no sitting in the den listening to TV even if I wanted to. Mom and dad want to talk, and so I am dispatched to the one place in the house where they know I can't eavesdrop. Though I'm full of turmoil, and anxiously waiting to hear from Cooper what Kurt's response to our trip was, I'm also emotionally drained, and I'm nearly asleep when my bedroom door creaks open and my dad tiptoes in and sits on the end of my bed.

"You asleep?"

"If I was, I'm not now."

"Sorry. I have something for you, and this will no doubt be an incredibly awkward moment, so here, just reach your hands out and take these, please."

Confused, I do as he asks and my hands close around two pamphlets, both in Braille. I scan my fingers over them; the first one is titled "How to have safe sex, a guide for gay men," and the second is "How to have a happy and meaningful sexual relationship when you're gay."

"Oh."

"I found a company that printed them in Florida, so I sent off," dad says awkwardly. "I think they'll explain the mechanics better than I can, but if you do have any questions then let me know and I'll do my best to answer."

I don't know what to say, so I thank him politely and set them on my nightstand.

"Read them, please."

"I will."

"Good. So...while everything is awkward, I might as well get this out of the way too. Here."

I hold out my hands again and I'm given a small box and a credit card. I shake the box, which makes a strange noise, and frown at him.

"Condoms," he blurts.

"Oh!"

"I think you'll need them."

"Dad...that's very...thoughtful, I guess, but Kurt and I aren't speaking right now. I'm not even sure we're together, so I doubt we're going to need these when I won't even be in New York for forty eight hours, and Cooper will be there too, so..."

"I think you might," he says swiftly. "And I'm sure Kurt is prepared, but just in case he isn't I just... I just want you to be safe. As Cooper said, we have a choice to accept that this is happening or to ignore it, and I don't want to push you away."

"And the credit card? What's next? Cocaine?"

"Oh goodness no. No, Blaine. That's... Don't ever do drugs, please."

"I was joking."

"Right. Of course. No... Right. Well the card is for you to use, for whatever you want, and I'll pick up the tab. You're a sensible kid, and I trust you not to go wild with it, but if you want to buy Kurt dinner, or get some new clothes... Whatever. I know it's not easy for you to get a job to pay for stuff."

"Thank you dad." I sit still as his generosity and love washes over me. "Just... Thank you. A lot."

"Any time. Goodnight, my sweet boy." He kisses me, stands, and I hear him walk toward the door. "And please, don't tell your mom I gave you condoms. Some things need to be kept quiet for the sake of peace."

Cooper assures me that Kurt is eager to see me, and so, before I really know what is happening, I've endured another week of school, and then Cooper picks me up and drives us to the airport, where the clerk checks us in.

"And where would you like to sit, Mr. Anderson?" she asks cheerily, and it takes a moment for me to work out she means me.

"Does it look like it'd matter? Ask him. Cooper, you want a window seat?"

"My brother needs to be in an aisle seat," he tells her politely. "And ignore his rudeness. He's antsy about being reunited with his boyfriend. If there's one with extra legroom he'll take it."

"Okay." I hear the tap, tap, tap of her keyboard and then she thrusts a ticket at me. "Enjoy your flight, Mr. Anderson. And your reunion."

"Why did you tell her that?" I grumble as I'm led away. "And where are you sitting?"

"Oh yeah... About that... I'm not going."

"Huh? What?" I run the words through my head again, shake it, and ask again "WHAT?"

"Calm down. Listen to me. Dad and I agreed that if there's one thing Kurt can do, it's inspire you to be brave. So we thought...and Burt agrees... That it'd be good for you two to spend some time alone so you can both work out what it is you want from being together, and maybe what it is you want as individuals, too."

"So you're sending me to New York ON MY OWN?"

"Kurt will meet you the other end, and you'll have assistance boarding and disembarking. They'll take you right to him."

"I can't go on my own, Cooper, I just can't!"

"You can, Blaine. Be brave."

I turn my head away, blinking back tears of pure terror. "Dad knows?"

"He does."

"And mom?"

"She will by now. Dad's talking with her."

"Is that why he gave me condoms?"

"Uh...I wasn't aware of that but yes, I'd guess so."

"I have to go?"

"You don't have to, no." He puts an arm about my shoulders, pulling me close. "We can go right home again, but you'll be the one calling Kurt to explain. You can do this, Blaine, you really can, and you and Kurt will enjoy the sweetest reunion without me there to cramp your style."

"I can do this," I mumble, in an effort to keep the overwhelming panic at bay. "I can do this. Will you meet me here Sunday?"

"Hmm, nope. I'll meet you here next Friday."

"WHAT?"

"Sweet reunion, remember?" He hugs me hard, and smoothes down my tightly gelled hair. "Oh look, here's your assistance now. Have fun, buddy, love you!"

I'm left standing alone, until a gentle hand takes my elbow. "Mr. Anderson? I'm Callie. Let me walk you to your gate."

"I'm going to New York," I tell her, still completely stunned. "Alone."


	20. Chapter 20

Marcus Anderson

Tricky things, children. You don't get a manual when they're born and even if you did, there's no way every question could be answered. I can only pray for guidance, and hope I'm doing the right thing.

I can guess what some of our church members would say if it was known that I'd given my seventeen year old son a box of condoms, a credit card, and dispatched him to New York to spend a week with his boyfriend. But let he who is without sin cast the first stone, I say. One of our members, Jim Hudson, is very vocal about gay people being an abomination. The same man has been having an affair with his secretary for at least three years, and frequently takes 'business' trips to Thailand while his clueless wife stays at home with their six young children.

So my son is in love, and happy...or unhappy at the moment, as it turns out. But he has as much right to happiness as anyone else. More so, in fact, since he's been through so much. His teenage years were, I thought, ruined beyond salvation, then along came Kurt and gave him a purpose again.

Yes, I'll do all I can to make this work for them both and, if it doesn't work out, then I'll step back and hold my son when he needs it. I'll help him to heal and, when he's ready, I'll send him out into the big wide world and be proud of the confident young man he's become.

It took a lot to calm Lorna down when I informed her that Blaine had gone to New York alone, and that he would be gone all week. Cooper later informed me that Blaine's reaction was equally as hysterical; I don't think they realize how alike they are. Lorna cried, and yelled, and accused me of having a midlife crisis. Well, that might be true, in part, but I'd prefer to think that I'm just opening my eyes a little more; becoming a bit more wise to the world we live in now.

"I want him to see, Lorna," I pleaded when she threatened to drive the eleven hours there to track him down. "I want him to realize that life doesn't have to be like this; he doesn't need to put up with this small town bigotry, the endless stares, the whispered slurs, the outright name calling and bullying. I want him to know that he can go to New York, or any tolerant city, and hold the hand of the man he loves without being under attack for it. I want him to be proud; of himself and his relationships, whomever he may choose to be with."

She had fallen into a chair again, holding her head in her hands. "I want that too," she admitted, crying softly all the while. "I do. I really do. I'm just so fearful for him. The noise of New York, the hustle and bustle... What if Kurt doesn't want to be with him, Marcus? What if, when he sees him on his home turf, and realizes how scared Blaine is, what a big adjustment it will be for him, what if he decides it's all too much to cope with?"

"Then Blaine will call and I'll have him on the first plane out of there, I promise. But I think you and I both know that's not likely to happen, don't we?"

"He's in a hotel though, right?" she asked, looking me in the eye. "Please tell me Cooper booked him into a hotel."

"Um..." I sighed, bracing myself for the inevitable meltdown. "Not exactly, no."

"Marcus!"

"Come on." I laughed, sitting down next to her and taking her in my arms. "When you were eighteen, and I was twenty, we took full advantage of that week's vacation your parents took, and you know it."

For a moment she looked horrified, then she softened and laughed, resting her head onto my shoulder. "Oh, we were terrors! My parents never had a clue, you know that?"

"I do. At least Blaine is being honest, and we're being realistic, right?"

"I'm not sure I like that," she groaned. "Can't I just bury my head in the sand and pretend like he and Kurt don't get up to anything behind closed doors?"

I laughed again, kissing into her hair. "If that suits you, my darling, then of course."


	21. Chapter 21

Kurt

When Cooper had called me and suggested Blaine come visit, my instinctive reaction was one of pure joy. Then I remembered that I've been actively avoiding him for over a week and I forced myself to admit to Cooper that it might not be a good idea.

"I think that's exactly why it's a good idea, actually," he informed me. "Because my brother is hurting, and I don't want that for him."

"Neither do I."

"Then make it better."

"I'm not sure that I can."

"You can, you've just both got to be honest with each other. Your dad said..."

"My dad?"

"Yeah. I wanted to see what he thought. He said that you both feel the same as each other, but you're both too scared to admit it. That's dumb, man. I'd give anything to find something like you two have, or could have. You need to get over yourselves, and the only way you can do that is by being face to face."

"So you're just sending him here? Really? I don't get any say in this?"

"Oh you get a say. You can decline. But if you do, then you're going to be the one to call Blaine and tell him, not me."

I sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of my nose. "I do really like the thought of him being here with me, and I could change work around a bit... But what about school?"

"Blaine needs a break from school. I was down for this being a weekend trip, but my dad and yours both suggested longer."

"Wow. Okay," I said, suddenly filled with hope. If everyone's rooting for us like this, then we must have something worth saving, right? "Yeah, okay, let's do this then."

So now I'm standing in the arrivals hall, waiting for Blaine who should, according to the screen above me, be arriving any moment. Cooper told me he would have assistance when his flight landed, and all I have to do is wait by the barrier, in front of the automatic doors, holding a sign with his name on it, which is what I am now doing.

The trouble is, Blaine doesn't arrive. I wait and I wait and I wait, and all the while, panic builds inside of me. What if he refused to get on the plane? What if he somehow got lost in Ohio and now he's languishing in Columbus airport? I'm just contemplating calling him when I notice him coming toward me, and my heart gives a painful lurch.

He's alone, looking more scared and fearful than I've ever seen. Pulling a carry on behind him, with his cane out in front, he's muttering to himself, his dark glasses over his eyes to hide his fear, but I know it, I can sense that he's minutes away from a total panic attack. The muscle in his neck is twitching, he bites his lip continuously, and he's gripping his cane so hard that his knuckles are turning white.

"Blaine!" It was a mistake to call. It disorientates him; his usually perfect hearing is offset by the noise of the airport and the huge amount of people milling about. But he's heard me and he's turning his head this way and that to try and hear me again, so I have no choice but to lean as far over the barrier as I can, and yell again.

"Blaine! I'm here. Right in front of you. Just keep walking forward."

No one helps him. Not one, single person stops to ask the blind young man if he might need assistance. If it weren't for the burly looking security guards then I'd climb over the barrier and run through those automatic doors to get to him, but I don't fancy my chances.

As it is, the doors stay open because another flight is coming through, so I can keep calling to him, but it's difficult with so many people pushing past him. "Come on, Blaine. I'm right here, I promise."

He makes it through, and then his hand finds the barrier, the relief flooding his face. "I'm here?"

"You're here. Oh, Blaine." I lean right over, hugging him tight, but he quickly pulls back, his fingers dancing over my face as he smiles, then frowns. "You're crying."

"Just... Seeing you...and you were struggling."

"I still am."

"I'm here now."

"No one met me."

"No."

"Cooper said they would, but someone I spoke with said they were short staffed so..."

"Come this way, come on, walk to the end of the barrier with me, then I can hold you properly."

He does so, and I realize how desperate I've been for his embrace. His touch is like no other, and though I've not had nearly enough of it, it makes me feel complete, like I'm home. "I've missed you," I murmur into his neck.

"You have? Huh. Strange. Usually, when you miss people, you call them to say hi."

"Woah. Yes, okay, you do, and I'm sorry for not calling. I didn't realize we were going to get into this right away."

"You expect me to just stay silent?" Blaine asks, and I see that the fear has been replaced by anger. "I'm annoyed, upset, and hurt, Kurt. I've been put on a plane, informed that I'm traveling alone, and that I'll be away from home for a week instead of two nights, and then I land here and I'm left on my own to navigate my way to a man who doesn't even want me here in the first place!"

"That's... That's not true," I stutter weakly. "And you didn't want to come?"

"I... I did and I didn't," he admits, hanging his head. "I wanted to be with you again, but I don't want to hear that this might be over."

"Do you want it to be over?"

"No."

"Neither do I. So it isn't."

"We need to talk, though."

"I know. Let's just... Let's just get you settled, and then we'll go get dinner and discuss things, okay?"

He nods sadly, but doesn't lift his head. "Okay."

I take his hand, but he moves it up to hold my arm instead. "Right. We'll get a cab to mine."

"Your place?" The alarm in his voice makes me stop in my tracks. "I'd rather go to my hotel, first, if that's okay."

"Um...Blaine? You're staying with me."

"I'm what?"

"You're... Did nobody tell you this?"

"No! When Cooper was coming we were staying in a hotel. I had no reason to assume that had changed!"

"Except that Cooper was never coming on this trip," I say gently. "And you must've known I'd want you with me?"

"I don't know anything in that regard."

"Fine. Okay. Will you stay with me, please?"

"My parents will freak."

"They know. So will you?"

"I don't know, because I don't know what I'll do if things go wrong."

"Just have faith, okay?" I cry. I'm losing my patience. Seeing Blaine again has unearthed a whole slew of emotion and all I want is for him to smile and kiss me, but he's being stubborn and defiant and though I understand why, it still hurts.

"I don't like being treated like I'm a commodity! Like my thoughts and opinions don't matter. Cooper convinced me to come here, with him, for two nights, so that you and I could talk. What I've ended up being coerced into is something entirely different, and no one's giving me a chance to say what I think or feel about any of it!"

I nod, though he can't see, and gently touch his shoulder, hurt when he flinches. "Sorry. You're right. We none of us asked you, we all just assumed we knew what was best... But would you have come, if this option was presented to you?"

"Probably not."

"Then am I allowed to be entirely selfish and say that maybe I'm glad we didn't ask, since I'm so pleased you're here?"

He shrugs, and though I might be imagining it, I think I see a smile twitch at the corner of his mouth. "You can say it."

"So will you come to my place? If you don't like it, or you don't want to stay, I can get you a hotel, I promise, or if you don't want to share a bed with me I'll go in Rachel's room. My roommates are gone all weekend."

"Okay."

"Thank you."

Unsurprisingly, Blaine is very quiet on the cab journey to my apartment. I feel a twinge of regret that he can't experience the joy of seeing New York for the first time, and the view of the Brooklyn Bridge, but I'm not sure he'd be in the mood to enjoy it anyway.

"Third floor," I tell him, unlocking the door to my building.

"How many steps?"

"I don't know."

"Fifty two," he tells me at the top, and then I show him inside.

"So...what works for you? You want me to guide you about, or let you find your own way? Describe it to you?"

"Show me about, describing as you go, please."

"Sure." I look around the cramped space and take his arm. "Well, this is the kitchen and living room all in one, so the only barriers are the couches and the table here, I guess. Put your left hand out. That's the fridge. The door next to that is the bathroom, the only one, and the door the other side of that is my room, so that should be easy enough. Next door along is Rachel's room. Santana's room is all the way over here, since she's toxic, and that's it. That's my little apartment."

"It seems nice."

"Thanks." I look about, while Blaine stands patiently waiting. "So... Do you want to take a shower or anything? Watch...listen...to the TV?"

"You said we'd get dinner."

"Yes. Yes we can. Want to go into Manhattan?"

"It makes no difference to me."

I sigh heavily, hoping he'll notice my ever increasing annoyance at his surliness, but he just stands there, waiting. "Fine. We have to take the subway. I know a good Mexican place."

I get the feeling that if Blaine didn't need to hold my arm, he'd be walking five paces behind me, sulking. I'm now past the point of caring. It's nearly eight, and I'm hungry. We can eat while he sulks, and then talk, I decide, but by the time we enter the subway, I'm feeling just as mutinous as he is, and we are decidedly not talking at all.

Only, when we arrive on the platform, a train rattles past on the other side, and Blaine cries out, immediately seeking safety by wrapping his arms around my waist and burying his head in my neck.

"Oh, hey," I say, softening instantly. "It's okay. They're loud. You get used to it though, trust me."

"No." He stiffens and pulls away, his face fixed straight ahead. "I won't."

He flinches the entire time we're on the train, and I reach out to him several times, but I'm constantly rebuffed, as if he's ashamed of having briefly let his guard down, so now he feels like he has to make up for it. My mutiny is replaced by a frustrated, burning anger so intense and fierce that it's only a matter of time before it bubbles over.

"So the restaurant is about a block from here," I say as we leave the subway. "The burritos are amazing. Or we could share tacos?"

"Kurt!"

I stop, looking about me, trying to work out what can possibly be wrong this time. "What?"

"The noise!" He looks close to tears as I tug him along. "It's so loud. I can't..."

"You can," I say firmly. "Cross this street with me. It's literally right around this corner."

"No, Kurt, I can't. I don't like it."

"Blaine, will you quit? Everything is too loud, too much, too difficult for you. Just try, please!"

"I can't!" he yells loudly, tearing at his hair. "I can't try, because I don't know what there is to try for anymore. You told me I could light up the sky but you know what? I only wanted to light it up for you, Kurt. No one else, just you. I wanted to light it up in a thousand different colors for you, only you went all weird on me and now I'm so confused. You say you want me here, in your bed, no less, but you won't call me or speak to me properly. You're rushing me about, not giving me any time to adjust and all I can think is that you can't really, truly want me here because if you did, you'd show a little more consideration."

I yell right back, my volume forcing him up against a store window. "Consideration? Consider this, Blaine Anderson. I didn't call, because I was trying not to ask you to think about applying to New York for college. All I've been able to think about is how amazing it would be to have you here next year, only then I think that's unfair on you, because you shouldn't feel beholden to me like that, you should be free to go to college, and get drunk, and date whomever you choose... and so yeah, I've been weird, because I don't know how to be around you without blurting all of that out. You know what else? When Cooper called me, I felt like I'd been given a lifeline, because I thought that maybe you'd get here, fall in love with the place like I have, and realize we could make a go of things here, only now I've probably ruined all of that."

"Kurt..." He pauses, reaching one hand out. "I..."

"I've fallen for you so hard, Blaine, don't you get that? It fucking hurts to think you've found the one, only you can't have done, because 'the one' is a teenager, with his whole life ahead of him, and so much potential that you have no right to take it all away from him. That's what's wrong, Blaine, it fucking hurts."

"Kurt..."

I turn and run, with tears streaming down my face, leaving Blaine alone on the streets of Manhattan.


	22. Chapter 22

Blaine

I don't register that I'm alone, not at first. How can I, when the noise around me is so intense and garbled? So, I carry on talking, telling Kurt that he's not ruined anything at all, until some guy walks past, pushes me out of the way, and calls me a weirdo.

Then I realize.

The panic descends, and my vision turns black as I swallow hard. Stand still, my mom has always told me, as a child and as a teenager, after my accident. If I'm lost, just stand still and someone will find me.

Only I'm not so sure that Kurt will.

"Excuse me?" I tentatively ask out loud. "Can anyone help me?"

But there's no answer from anyone. New Yorkers are all too busy, too rushed to notice a blind kid stumbling along, trying to find a Mexican restaurant based on his sense of smell alone.

I'm lost, alone, on the streets of Manhattan, and I never even got to tell Kurt I feel the same.


	23. Chapter 23

Kurt

I walk seven blocks to a sports bar, of all places, where I order a whiskey and soda and down it quickly. It's only then that I calm down enough to think.

"You what?" my dad hollers when I call. "You IDIOT! Hang up right this second and go find him. For God's sake, Kurt, however you were feeling there's no excuse for leaving him alone. Do you have any idea how terrified he'll be?"

"Yes, but..."

"GO!"

I run, pulling up short when I arrive back at the spot where we were, to find Blaine is no longer there. "Shit."

I go to the restaurant, only he's not there either, so I call, desperately hoping he'll pick up.

"Blaine!"

"I don't know where I am, Kurt," he whispers into the phone, and I have to stifle a sob when I realize he's crying. "I'm in a park, I think? I'm on a bench, and I can smell grass, and hotdogs."

"Okay, okay. Can you ask?"

"I keep trying, but no one answers me, and I don't know if people are blinder than me, or what, but they just don't see me."

"Then they're missing out. I'm coming, Blaine. Stay still, okay? Don't move."

I hang up, and run once more, three blocks downtown to Washington Market Park, arriving just as dusk is falling. I scour every inch, and just when I'm wondering if I've gotten the wrong place, I see him, sitting alone, looking forlorn, lost, and terrified.

"Blaine... Oh God..."

I don't even make it to the bench but instead I fall at his feet, taking his hands in mine and kissing them. "I'm sorry. So, so sorry. I was angry...and hungry, but angry, mostly. Hurt, scared... Christ, Blaine, I'm so fucking scared that I'll lose you. I'm... I'm in love with you, you see. And I know that might sound strange, since I've been an utter bastard to you, and I just abandoned you in a strange, noisy place...but I do. I love you. I think...or rather, I know, that I've loved you since our first date. That's crazy, huh? But it's true, I swear. And I'm so sorry if it scares you, but I need to say it. It's okay if you don't feel the same. I'm not asking you to, but I just need to get it all out there, because it's driving me insane."

"Kurt?"

"Yes?"

"I'm in love with you too."

"What?" I look up at him and for the first time, he smiles through his tears.

"You heard. I love you. You curse too much, you live some fancy life that I'm not ever sure I'll fit into, and you can, I've realized, be quite horrible...but I love you. And I feel just as scared as you do, too. Scared of how much I feel, scared of the future, and where being with you might take me, but most of all, I'm scared that we might mess this up, and I don't want that to happen."

"I don't either."

"Then we need to make sure we don't, huh?"

"Definitely."

I kneel up, between his legs, delighted when he cups my face, tracing over my cheekbones with his thumbs.

"One more thing," he says softly, as he starts to lean in.

"Yes?"

"You're the one for me, too."

His lips meet mine and all I taste is love. Over and over, as I open my mouth wide beneath his touch, I hear his words. "I'm in love with you, too." "You're the one for me." "I love you."

"I love you," I cry, pulling back with a gasp. "Blaine... I do. I love you."

He grins, forgetting about the noise of the city, the constant background of car engines, cab horns blaring, sirens wailing and he concentrates instead, on being in this moment, with me. "You can do this," I tell him as I realize it myself. "You can be here, in New York, with me, this week. I won't let you go, I promise."

"Even if you get hungry?"

"Even then."

"Even if you want to escape to a bar for a drink?"

"How did you know that?"

"I can taste it, fool." He smiles indulgently. "Yeah, I can do this."

"Still wanna stay in that hotel?"

"Nope."

"Good. Come on, let's eat."

We share tacos, and Blaine gives no thought to the mess that tacos bring as we eat, drink, and simultaneously talk over one another until we're done, both of us leaving the restaurant with massive grins on our faces and full bellies. He holds my hand as we walk, but keeps his cane on his other side; a wise decision considering the number of pedestrians the city has.

"Is the subway okay?" I ask, mindful of our journey here. "We could get a cab if..."

"Subway is fine if you don't mind me flinching. I mean, I need to get used to the noise, right?" He stops himself, clearing his throat. Too soon, just yet, for either of us, but the discussion doesn't seem as scary anymore. "If I'm going to be here all week, I mean."

"Yeah, you do really. I mean, I was hoping we could maybe go to Coney Island tomorrow, and if we get a cab out there, I'll probably need to get a bank loan."

He laughs. "Okay. Subway it is."

I hold Blaine close, because there's no better feeling than his body pressed against mine as the train lurches from side to side. I grip tightly, protectively around his waist and I forewarn him of every stop and start.

"Next one is us."

"Already?"

"Time flies when you're having fun."

"I wouldn't call it fun," he says as the doors open. "But it wasn't as awful as earlier."

It's slightly quieter out in Brooklyn, but not much in comparison to Blaine's leafy, suburban street in Lima. Even so, he relaxes an infinitesimal amount, letting our clasped hands swing between us as we walk along.

"My life isn't fancy, you know," I tell him. I look around at my neighborhood. It's nice enough, but far from the plush, well kept buildings that Blaine thinks I belong in. "And you would fit."

"Hmm. I don't know. You write about fashion, for one thing. I definitely don't fit there."

"I like your style. It's preppy, neat."

He makes a face. "I only hope I don't look too hideous on any given day."

"You always look good. You could lose a little of the gel, though. I like the curls."

"For you then, maybe."

He stops suddenly, making me yelp when he pulls me into his arms. "I've only kissed you once since I've been here."

"I get the feeling that's about to change."

He laughs, and pushes his glasses up into his hair. "It is." His eyes seem to dance with delight as he kisses the tip of my nose, then pulls back.

"Hey!"

And then his mouth is on mine, properly, making me weak with desire. He backs me into a wall and my arms go up around his neck. His hands are on my waist, firm, insistent, hinting at what's to come as we make out hard. I realize that Blaine has no clue to his surroundings, but in that moment, neither do I. I only care that my shy, sweet, innocent boyfriend is suddenly showing me a darker, more dominant side to him...and I love it.

"Take me home," I demand when he moves his lips to my neck.

"I would, but I don't know the way."

"Damn. Yes. Right. Come on."

My caring concern for Blaine's welfare on the streets goes out of the window as I tug him along at top speed, meaning we're both breathless by the time we get back to my apartment, but he pins me up against the front door as soon as I've locked it, and we make out hard again.

As tempting as it is to sink to my knees right there and then, I do force myself to gently back him across the room and into my bedroom, where we fall onto the bed together and pick up where we left off.

Blaine's phone begins to ring just as we've both kicked our shoes off, but he ignores it. Mine then starts right when I've gotten his shirt open, just before I can trail kisses down his chest. Once again, we ignore it, but then, when we're both shirtless and my pants are open, his phone starts up again.

"Get it," I tell him, rolling away. "Because it's probably your mom in a panic."

It is indeed Lorna Anderson calling, because Blaine hasn't called home to say he landed safely; apparently one text saying 'I'm here' is not sufficient. I check my own missed call and see that it's from my dad, and I realize with horror that I didn't let him know I'd found Blaine.

"It's me," I say, stepping out into the living room and closing the bedroom door behind me. "Sorry. It's all okay."

"Thank God! You couldn't have called and said? Or sent a text?"

"Sorry. I got...distracted. Your call interrupted things."

"I don't want to know that. I'm just glad he's okay."

"He loves me, dad. He said it."

"Of course he does. We all knew that, you fool."

"I love him too."

"Again, nothing we didn't already know." He laughs and it's warm, comforting, and it makes me feel good. "I'll let you go, kid. Have fun. Call every now and then, huh?"

"I will. Love you, dad."

"Love you too, Kurt."

I return to the bedroom, where Blaine is lying on the bed, his eyes dancing as he tries to focus on me. The burning, passionate moment has faded, but he still seems happy; holding out his hand for me to go closer which I do, spooning around him and kissing his neck. "Okay?"

"Yeah. My life is weird. A series of anomalies, I find."

"I think that can be said for most people."

"True. Do you mind if I take a shower? I know we were kinda in the middle of something but..."

"Sure."

"I mean, we can get right back to it... What we were doing... It's just...I think I'll be better if I cool off a bit first."

"I understand. Here, I'll get it going for you." I show him into the bathroom and turn my back to set the shower running. "While you're here, be careful about who's used the shower before you. If it's Rachel, she takes scalding hot showers, but Santana has it ice cold because she is, in fact, Satan. I'm perfect, naturally." I find a decent temperature for him and turn around, gasping to see him in just a tiny pair of boxer shorts once more. "Oh my. Right. I'm going next door."

"Okay."

"You're entirely oblivious, aren't you?"

"What? What did I do?"

"Nothing. I meant you're oblivious about how hot you are."

"Meh."

"It's true. Okay, I'm going..." I can't resist smoothing my hands over his chest and shoulders, down his back to the swell of his ass. "I'm really going, because mmm... Otherwise I'll bite your ass like it was a peach."

"Get out," he says, laughing. "And you can turn the light out."

"What? Why?"

"I can't see it, can I? Makes no difference to me if the lights are on or off."

Stunned, I stop for a moment. "I never thought of that before."

"It still freaks my mom out to come home and find me sitting in the dark."

"I'll bet. Huh. Yeah."

"Kurt?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you realize the entire time you're contemplating this information, you're still groping my backside?"

"Oh my god! Sorry!"

But Blaine doesn't care, and he can't see my embarrassment. He can only feel my arousal as he draws me into a long, deep kiss. "I love you," he whispers, then shoves me out of the door and closes it, laughing. And I head back into my bedroom, to lie face down on my bed and think about how wonderful life has become.


	24. Chapter 24

Blaine

So Kurt loves me, just as I love him, which is pretty wonderful. It still freaks me out when I think back to him leaving me alone like that, but I have to put it down to him being so tormented and confused by his emotion that he wasn't thinking straight.

I have to do that, because otherwise I'll question it too long, and too hard, and then I'll end up ruining things. Anyway, since we cleared the air and declared our feelings, Kurt's been right back to the man I first met; slightly awkward, very flirtatious, and entirely outrageous in some of the stuff he says, just because he likes to make me laugh.

It feels good.

I think back to my conversation with Cooper the other week, when he told me to stand up for myself a little more. I'm beginning to think I can do that, and not come off as obnoxious or arrogant. I think, in fact, that Kurt might respect me all the more for it.

I leave the shower, slightly disorientated, but Kurt must hear me crashing around because he knocks softly on the door and asks if I need any help.

"I'm good now I've figured out where the door is." I pull it open, and my outstretched hand collides with his bare chest. "Don't leave me like that again."

"Huh? In the shower?"

"On the streets."

"I won't, I swear."

"Imagine the darkest dark that you can, Kurt, and then that dark is swarming with noise...endless noise that you can't distinguish, and you can't make it stop, however hard you try. You don't know your way anywhere, and you're alone, totally alone. Please don't do that to me again, please."

"I won't," he chokes out, and then a sob tears through him. "I didn't mean to make you feel that way...oh God."

"Don't cry, please, I just... I just..."

"It's okay, you needed me to know. I get that. I do."

"Come here." I hold my arms out and he falls against me, kissing any part of me he can reach. "I do need you to know, yes, but now you do, so that's it, okay? That's the end of it."

He nods, but doesn't move from where he's buried into my neck. That's fine. It's nice, having him there. I always feel like I'm the one seeking and receiving comfort from anyone, so it feels good to be able to return it for once. Plus, he's just in his underwear, which is definitely a bonus.

"I love you, Blaine, I haven't said that for at least thirty minutes, so I feel like I should say it again."

I laugh, finding his chin with my finger and tilting his face toward me. "Want to finish what we started earlier?"

"Yes."

He guides me back to bed.

Our bodies seem to fit together, and this time I'm more certain; my fingers map out contours, seek out sensitive spots, and my lips make those places tingle. I'm the one to finally undress us both. I get the feeling Kurt is still hesitant, just in case I'm unsure but truly, I've never felt a desire so strong.

I have to explore all of him with my hands, and he seems to appreciate it, moaning beneath me when I wrap a hand around him, and crying out loudly when I lean down and kiss the very top of his cock, curious to taste him on my tongue.

"Shit...Blaine... Are you...?"

"I don't know how this is done, Kurt," I lamely admit. "I've only read about it once and..."

"Don't do it," he says, and his kindness is what makes me even more determined. "Just use your hand. We can get to other stuff..."

"I want to get to all of it."

"Tonight?"

"Yes."

"Oh, Blaine, hot stuff..." I feel him push himself up onto his elbows. "Blaine... I don't know if either of us will make it that far right now."

"I want to try."

"Then we'll try. C'mere so I can kiss you."

I oblige, but then I break away, kissing down his chest until I can take the tip of him into my mouth once more. He gasps, but it doesn't seem to be in horror; in fact, he runs a trembling hand into my hair and lifts his hips slightly, prompting me to sink lower.

"Yes."

That one word, uttered, moaned, with such soft certainty, spurs me on, and I move my head up and down, listening all the while to Kurt's soft gasps of pleasure. It tastes strange, but not unpleasant, but what thrills me the most is the feel of him in my mouth, the control I have over his pleasure, the erotic way that his cock slides against my tongue, and the way he shouts my name when I briefly dip my tongue into his slit.

His knees are drawn up, his feet just either side of my shoulders and, purely by chance, and because it seems like something that might feel quite good, I push my thumb down, under his balls, and back toward his entrance, just pressing over the hole.

"Fuck, Blaine...are you sure? Oh, but yes. Yes. Are you sure, though?"

"I don't know," I tell him honestly, pulling off with a gasp. "Is it alright?"

"It's pretty fucking amazing, actually."

"Oh. Then, yes."

"Here." He twists away for a moment, I hear a drawer being opened, the click of something, and then something wet falls onto my fingers. "Lube."

"What's this?"

"It's uh... Well, it's lubricant. That...area...doesn't naturally lubricate itself so this stuff makes everything slide a whole lot easier."

"Oh."

I try it, and the very tip of my pointer finger slips just inside.

"Like that," he gasps. "Oh Blaine, just like that."

So I get back to the sucking thing, and the finger thing, and Kurt... Well, Kurt goes crazy; crying out my name, tugging on my hair, arching his back... It's sensational and it makes me feel like I could orgasm any second just from listening to him like this. His voice is deeper than normal and scratchy, rough with desire.

For me.

"I'm gonna fucking explode!" he suddenly cries and then he's coming, warm and wet, into my mouth. I have no clue what to do with it, so some escapes over him, but I swallow the bulk of it, bitter yet undeniably sensual.

It is this action that seems to send Kurt more crazy than any other. He drags me into a messy, sloppy kiss, with come running down our chins, and then I'm back against the pillows with him panting above me.

"I'm going to replicate all of that on you," he informs me. "So you can see how amazing it feels."

I'm not about to argue anyway, but nothing on earth could have prepared me for how good it feels to have it done to me. Kurt is more certain, more experienced than I am and he sinks low right away, before coming back up and teasing me, then taking me deep again. I'm so concentrated on the magic his tongue is bringing that his finger takes me quite by surprise. Goodness, though, it feels fantastic. Who'd have thought?

"Kurt...that's... That's..."

I lose all ability to form words. Kurt pushes his finger deeper, and I feel my body opening up for him, wanting him, only him.

"Kurt!"

He keeps at it, and the pleasure is never ending. I'm sure it can't get any better. My orgasm is right there on horizon, waiting, building, and then Kurt crooks his finger just so, and I swear I actually see fireworks.

I come. So hard, so fast, and for so long that when it's over I struggle to remember where I am for a second. It turns out the top half of my body is upright, my hand pushing Kurt's head as low as it can get. I let go and he comes up, kissing me tenderly, his lips curved into a smile of satisfaction against me.

"You said something that sounded perilously close to fuck me, then, you realize that?"

I fall back against the pillows, one arm across my face. "I would never."

"Oh but you nearly did." He curls up next to me, nuzzling into my neck, making me laugh. "You bad boy."

"Go away!" A sudden wave of euphoria rushes over me and I roll onto my side, grabbing him around the waist and tackling him. "You're a bad influence."

"But I love you!"

"True. And I love you, too." I rub my nose against his, and suddenly realize I know the layout of his face now. I don't need to use my fingers to find his lips, eyes, or nose, I just know where he is, in proximity to me, all the time. "That was incredible."

"Uh-huh. I'm sure I should be ashamed of how quickly it was all over but..."

"But we have all week, right?"

"Right." He kisses my cheek, still smiling. "All week. Hmm. I'm gonna take a shower, okay? I won't be long."

That's the last thing I'm aware of, until I wake the next morning to the feel of Kurt's arms around me, his sleeping form spooned behind me. He snuffles gently in his sleep, kissing my shoulder and pulling me closer.

I have no desire to move.

When I wake again, the light has changed behind my eyes. It's bright white, meaning it must be a sunny day, and this time Kurt stretches out when I wriggle slightly.

"Morning hot stuff."

"Hello."

"Feels pretty good to wake up next to you."

"Something you could get used to?"

"Huh?" He moves quickly, extracting himself from the duvet and sitting upright. "What? Why? Why would I...what?"

"Cause when we're old and married, we'll wake up together every day, and I wouldn't want to annoy you."

He doesn't answer at first, rather he falls on top of me and kisses me over and over, on my cheeks, lips, eyelids, and nose.

I laugh at his eager response. "My heart was in my mouth then, I thought I'd pushed too far."

"You'd want... I mean, you like the idea of marriage?"

"Very much so. Especially to you. I don't know, I've just always thought of marriage as a really precious thing." I bite my lip, worrying again that I've said too much, but the next thing I know, Kurt is on top of me again, kissing me like he can't get enough, and all thoughts leave my head entirely.

It proves to be very hard to leave Kurt alone, and in all honestly it would suit me to stay in this apartment for the entire week and never leave, but Kurt seems incredibly keen to take me to Coney Island, so we get ready, eating our way through mountains of toast as we do so.

"I think I should warn you that I don't like fast rides," I tell him just as we're leaving the apartment. "They're disorientating and..."

"Oh that's okay, I hate them. But we can take a walk, sit on the beach, get corn dogs, find a bar...whatever."

"A bar?"

"Not if you don't want to."

"I don't know. I've never tried alcohol."

"Oh my poor, sweet boy." He laughs, and then we step outside. The noise hits immediately and I flinch, but Kurt just grips my hand tightly, letting me know I'm safe. "Your life is an anomaly, you're right," he says lightly. "You've never tried alcohol, you hate fast rides and fireworks, yet you're probably far more daring and adventurous than anyone else in your entire school. Plus, how many other seniors would be allowed to spend a week in New York with their boyfriend, especially if he was ten years their senior?"

"Hmm. Yeah, I think my parents are okay, you know that?"

"I'd say! I really like them, actually, and not just because they've let you come here. But because they're honest, and always willing to try."

"Mom's not as good at letting go."

"No, but I think that might partly be a mom thing, and partly her nature, you know? She's a worrier, and she thinks you can't do a lot of stuff...then you surprise her. You're the same."

"I guess."

"Like now. You're walking along with me, it's a busy Saturday morning, people everywhere, yet you're just walking and talking like everyone else. You didn't think you'd be able to do that, did you?"

"No." I think it over. "No, I didn't, you're right."

"See? I'm right. Listen to your elders."

"Ha! Speaking of... When's your birthday?"

"December first. You?"

"November seventeenth."

"Ooh, so for two weeks, you're only nine years younger than me? I'm going to make the absolute most of those two weeks, you know that?"

"I'll allow it."

"Subway time," he announces, showing me to the top of the steps. "You'll be fine. It's a long ride but it'll get quieter once we get further out."

It's not fine; it's terrifying as hell, but it's a terror I can deal with a whole lot better with Kurt by my side. When you lose your sight, you're taught things like how to make a cup of coffee without burning yourself, how to read Braille, how to navigate stairs without falling on your face. You're not taught how to get used to the screeching, clanking noise of the subway in a city that you don't live in.

We find seats after a time, which is better, but I still don't like the way you're jostled about from the erratic motion of the train, or the way it grinds to a halt at a stop and then lurches off again and honestly? I can't see that it's something I'll ever enjoy. There again, if I'm ever going to live independently, wherever that might be, I have to get used to some form of public transport, be it subway, bus, trolley or whatever.

Kurt's right, it is a long journey, and a proper conversation is kind of impossible, which also makes the ride worse, since there's no real distraction, but finally we're there, and Kurt is dragging me out into the warm sunlight once more, asking where I'd like to go.

"Makes no difference to me,"

"Quit with that! It does make a difference, Blaine. You're entitled to have thoughts and opinions like the rest of us, even if you can't see your surroundings. Do you want to go get coffee, or sit on the beach, take a walk, what?"

I think about it. In their protectiveness, my parents and Cooper have always made these decisions for me. Maybe they thought it was cruel to offer a choice when I can't see any of it anyway, so I've trailed them wherever they've decided to go but now Kurt is asking me what I'd like to do and honestly, I'm overwhelmed with the options.

"Sit on the beach, I think?"

"Well, we can try it, and if you want to do something different, just let me know, okay?"

"Okay."

"You know what?" He nudges my shoulder and I can hear the smile in his voice. "I can see a place selling lemonade. Wanna visit there first?"

"You just want an excuse to call me lemonade boy again, don't you?"

"Yeah I do."

"Then who am I to deny that? Come on."


	25. Chapter 25

Kurt

Blaine is, I think, enjoying himself. Which is good, because I honestly thought he was going to throw up on the subway. Watching the color slowly drain from his face was agonizing, and several times I thought about getting off at the next stop and just taking a cab back to the apartment, but Blaine seemed quietly determined and surely I owe it to him to encourage that.

It's hard to talk over the noise of the train, especially when he's so quiet and concentrated on not buckling under fear, so instead I held his hand tightly, glaring at the woman opposite who seemed to have an issue with it, and I thought back to this morning, when Blaine had just casually mentioned about us being an old married couple one day.

I was kinda glad he admitted he'd worried about saying it because in all honesty, hearing those words out loud scared me and thrilled me all at the same time. It's definitely something I've thought about, especially with Blaine, but until that moment I didn't really realize it's something I can envision, too. Certainly as time goes on for us we both discover new things; mainly that this relationship isn't perfect, because neither of us are.

And that's okay.

That's okay, because if we can accept each other, flaws and all, then it makes for a stronger, happier, more settled relationship, surely? And maybe that was both our faults, before. Maybe he thought I was this perfect knight in shining armour, come to save him, and I thought he was this perfect dream boy; quiet, thoughtful, romantic. He is, of course, all of those things, but he's also still a teenager who is prone to sulking and feeling a little sorry for himself, and he's also blind.

Okay, a little more than a flaw, I'll admit, and hardly one that can be helped, but I'd severely underestimated the needs Blaine has. It's easy to do, when you only see someone in their familiar setting, and you're too preoccupied with kissing those full, precious lips, and watching that beautiful mouth curve into a smile. But when I left Blaine yesterday, all I could think in that moment was that I needed to walk away, because the red mist was descending and I didn't want to say something I'd regret.

When I called him, and, indeed, when I found him in the park, I realized what a terrible, unkind, and thoughtless thing I had done. The terror in his face was worse than I'd ever seen. This wasn't a mild panic over eating pizza in front of my dad, or worrying that his parents wouldn't let him date me. This was sheer fright, an inability to see, literally and figuratively, how he was going to get out of the situation.

Obviously things got better, but I was glad he told me in no uncertain terms not to do it again. Not that I would have; his face had taught me all the lessons I needed to know, but his words will haunt me and the guilt I feel will linger for the longest time.

It's why I'm going to make him drive this trip, to own it, to learn things about himself that he didn't know before, such as the fact that he is capable of making his own decisions. Simple things, like whether he wants coffee or lemonade, sure, but also more complex choices, such as where he might like to go to college, for example.

We grab our lemonade and sit on towels in the sun. It's getting hotter by the minute, and Blaine, I know, wants to pull his shirt off, because he keeps tugging at the collar where his bow tie sits.

"Just do it."

"Huh? No. Scars. People will stare."

"I don't stare."

"Because you're usually busy kissing," he says with a smile. "They're ugly, Kurt. Horrible."

"They're..." I stop myself from saying they're not. They are, and they're hugely noticeable. Each and every time I've been intimate with Blaine they give me a jolt when he takes his shirt off, or when my hands run over them. But to me, now, they're part of him. I'm aware it's not the same for random people on the beach.

"Yeah, okay, they're not great," I say, feeling lame. "But you know what? You shouldn't have to sit here, stifling hot, just because you're worried about offending people. I'll take my shirt off too, but you'll have to smother me in suncream because I burn easily."

"You do?"

"Yeah, I have really pale skin."

"I never knew that."

"No."

He sits for a moment, thinking, and I let him. Then the bow tie comes off, followed, slowly, by his shirt.

"Please take yours off," he whispers, hugging his arms about himself.

"Sure, but you know, no one's actually looking anyway, they're all too busy doing their own thing. Come here. I'll put cream on you then you can return the favor."

"Oh hell."

I laugh, tugging him between my legs so I can reach his back. "Come on, that can hardly be erotic sitting on a packed beach like this."

"Wanna bet? I don't see anyone. I mean, I hear them, but they're easy enough to block out when you...you...start rubbing lotion onto me like you're doing now and it feels really, really good."

Unable to resist, I lean down and kiss his shoulder. "You always feel good beneath my fingers. And tongue."

"I'm going to demand your silence now."

I laugh, but oblige him. The last thing I want is for him to feel even more self-conscious by sitting on the beach with an erection. We switch places and I'm patient as can be while Blaine sits behind me and fumbles about with the lotion. I don't interfere, or offer to help, I just wait, and then his hands are on my back, massaging slowly.

"Blaine?"

"Hmm?"

"I want to ask you a question, but I'm not sure how to word it, whether it'd offend you or not."

"Kurt, I love you, but you're the most blunt person I know. Just say it."

"Okay. If there was some magical operation that could restore your sight, would you have it?"

"Hmm."

He takes an absolute age to ponder his answer. So long, in fact, that he's long since finished with the sun lotion and we're both lying side by side on our fronts, with me looking out to the ocean and wondering if he'll ever speak again.

"Well, there isn't," he says eventually. "So there's that. But if there was? If I knew it would restore my vision one hundred per cent, then yes. But if it was a maybe, or I'd get back like ten per cent of my sight? No."

"What about fifty per cent?"

"I don't think I'd have it done for less than eighty, to be honest."

"Can I ask why not?"

"Well, I think it would frustrate me more than not being able to see at all. When I first lost my sight, it wasn't just an instant black. I mean, it was technically, but my brain couldn't register that. It still made images all the time. Gradually they became watery, and I hated that phase more than any other. Seeing my mom as she was talking to me, but having her face swim behind my eyes... Not being able to discern Cooper's face, or my dad... I prefer it now. I have vague memories of what they look like, but I try to block that out and most of the time, I do. I've found, through meeting you and your dad, that it's a much more enjoyable experience to meet someone completely new. I have no clue what you really look like, but I'll bet you're a dreamboat."

His choice of words make me laugh out loud, and he's pleased with himself, I can tell. "Yeah, that'll get you laid."

"Good."

"Interesting answer, though. Somehow I had a feeling you wouldn't give an outright yes."

"Of course, you know I wouldn't get a say in it anyway; my mom would have me in that operating theater before I knew what was happening."

"True. I wonder if it would take you long to adjust, if you could see again?"

"Not as long as it took to adjust to no sight, that's for sure."

"Three years on though? You're doing amazingly well."

"Actually, I'm not." There's no pity there, or indulgence, just a statement of fact, and I'm glad when he elaborates. "The Braille thing, yes. I'm smart at that, and I've really enjoyed learning it. I had to, for my own sanity, because reading text books was one of the things I missed most. But the rest of it? Yeah, not so good. I had this guy assigned, and a doctor. They were supposed to help me with coming to terms with it. Counselling, but also more practical stuff like how to cross a road, find my way around places... Only, my parents were in denial, maybe? I don't know. So we didn't do too many sessions before they took me away, saying they'd help me out at home until this had passed."

"Oh Blaine. Wow. That explains so much."

"Yeah. It never passed."

"No, and so your parents are the ones that have helped you?"

"Yes, and I'm very grateful."

"Oh, I get that, I do," I tell him quickly. "But you should've spent more time getting specialist help, surely?"

He shrugs. "It is what it is."

"I guess."

It's my turn to be quiet then, as I contemplate all Blaine has said. He takes his glasses off, turning to face me and running his fingers through my hair. "Don't be sad."

"I'm trying not to."

"Sit up." He guides me, until we're sitting facing one another, with him holding my hands in his. "See me," he says, raising my fingers to his face. "See me like I see you."

Blaine's blindness has made him both acutely aware of his surroundings and yet also entirely unaffected by them. Like now, for example, encouraging me to do this; he doesn't see and therefore doesn't care that we are on a busy beach, surrounded by people and oddly enough, with Blaine in front of me, neither do I.

Closing my eyes, I reach out, tentatively running the fingers of my right hand over his cheekbone, to start. It is defined, lifted with the hint of a smile, and his jawline is sharp.

His lips are full, and I smile as I bring them to mind. They really are perfectly kissable, and I even push the tip of my finger into his mouth, to run over his teeth. His nose is strong, as my grandma would say, but it's also cute, and I lean forward to kiss the tip of it. My hands move up to his eyelids then, closed under my touch, his impressively long eyelashes fanning over his cheeks. Moving both hands back at the same time, I hold his face in my hands, just under his ears and then, still with my eyes closed, I kiss him full on the mouth, suddenly hungry with desire.

"Slow it down," he whispers when my tongue brushes over his lower lip. "Or I won't be able to move."

"Sorry. Sorry. It's just... That's like... Doing that. It's incredibly intimate, isn't it?"

"Yes, which is why I don't do it to everyone. But between us? Because we're physically attracted to each other... Yeah, it's pretty full on."

"Think you can make it to the water with me? I need to cool off."

He laughs and gets to his feet, offering his hand. "Sure."

We walk hand in hand along the shoreline, wading through the ankle deep water. We don't talk much, but we don't need to. It's a perfectly happy and serene moment until Blaine suddenly says "I'd see you, if I could. I think I'd give anything to see you."

"I think... I think you do see me," I tell him, swapping our hand holding for an arm about his waist instead. "More than most people, in fact. But I know what you mean."

"A while back, Doctor King, that's the doctor I see every couple of months, he mentioned getting a seeing eye dog, but I didn't want to. I didn't want to fall in love with a puppy and never see its face. Not that I'm comparing you to a puppy, but..."

"I get you."

"But then I do see you, don't I? I feel you beneath my fingertips, I taste you with my tongue, I know the effect you have on my heart... I'd just like a look at your face, I think. You see? I go around in circles about it all."

"I think that's understandable."

"Tell me what it's like for you."

"Being with you?" I think it over. "It's... Different, but thoroughly eye-opening."

"You pick your words."

"Ha!" He nudges me, and it takes a moment for both our laughter to subside. "Sorry. What I meant by that was, when we first met, your being blind was a major issue, because I wasn't used to it. But then it wasn't an issue at all, and I was thinking 'So, he's blind, what of it? Makes no difference.' But it does, doesn't it? It's an unavoidable fact that your disability means a difference to us as a couple and us as individuals. It could make me sad, if I let it, and it does, occasionally. If I think about it... You not being able to see stuff in our future... Like if we got a place together one day... That upsets me, for you. And realistically, if we stay together, it'll mean a lot of extra care on my part. You can't drive, so stuff like grocery shopping, running errands, that'll really be down to me. You'll always need assistance when we go new places. If we settled here, it'd take you a long time to navigate things like the subway. So I'd have to be prepared to support you in all that. I would, though, if you wanted."

"Would you like us to stay together? Honest answer, please, not a load of avoidance."

"Very much so."

I just say it, plain, simply, and then it's out there.

He beams. "Good." And then wraps up me in a strong, tight embrace. "I do too."

"When I list all those differences though, Blaine, I think what I really mean to say is, it does make a massive difference, but I don't care. I'm realizing about your needs more and more, but nothing about it is putting me off. You know what else? I think you do know me better because of your lack of sight. All those nights spent talking on the phone benefited us both. We became more attune to one another, and you're definitely more sensitive to how I'm feeling. You're pretty awesome, you know? And I'm glad I've fallen in love with you."

"I'm quite glad about that, too." We carry on walking, arm in arm, the tide washing nearly up to our knees now. "You been in love before?"

"Nope. My dating life has been a disaster. Every guy I met, I'd cling onto in the hopes that he might be the one, even though I knew from the outset that they weren't. I've had some shitty relationships, some that have lasted longer than others, but nothing that ever felt like this."

"Is that how you know?"

"That this is love? Possibly, but then how do you know?"

"Because I can envision us spending holidays together with our families, curling up by an open fire on a rainy, cold night, vacationing in the sun, buying a house together, getting married, all of that... But I can't envision my life without you in it."

I stop him in his tracks, kissing him lightly. "I'd say then...that this is true love, wouldn't you?"

"Yep." He grins mischievously, then reaches down, scooping water up and splashing me. "And the water fight is on!"


	26. Chapter 26

Blaine

Our shorts are still damp when we board the subway to go back to Brooklyn, and that's after we've eaten corn dogs, walked the length of the boardwalk, and taken our time drinking coffee at a small cafe.

Still, we're tired yet giddy, and both, I think, feeling like the day has been a huge success. We've had some meaningful, insightful conversations, we've laughed, we've messed about in the sea, and we've realized- though we already knew it, really- that we love being in one another's company.

I like that Kurt rests his head onto my shoulder as the train rumbles along. He occasionally murmurs some observation or other to me but mainly we are quiet. I don't find the ride nearly as frightening as I did this morning.

"Did you want to go out, tonight?" Kurt asks when we're free of the subway and walking back to his apartment. "We never did go to that bar."

"Oh, well... We could."

"Please don't feel like we have to. I'm just as happy to stay home and get takeout, if you want? Santana and Rachel will be back tomorrow, so we might be grateful to go out then."

"I'd rather do that," I admit. "Please."

"Good. So would I." He squeezes my hand. "It's more acceptable to eat naked if you're in your own home, I find."

I laugh. "You're outrageous. Tell me, what do Santana and Rachel do?"

"They're both dancers. Rachel teaches, Santana competes. In fact, that sums them up entirely. Rachel likes to tell people what to do, and Santana likes to win at everything."

"What does she dance?"

"Latin. You should see her Argentine Tango, it's fierce. She has this partner, George, and they hate each other. Really. But when they dance together, magic happens. Santana also has a girlfriend, Dani, who makes her a whole lot more bearable. Rachel dates a guy named Todd who lives in Manhattan and does something with numbers that I can't be bothered to understand, and I date you, so I win."

"Smooth."

"True."

Once we're in the apartment, it's like we've been starved of each other all day. Which is partly true; though we've shared plenty of affectionate moments, we've missed being able to make out like this, with me backed up against the counter and Kurt between my legs, making his intentions clear.

"Shower."

It takes me a moment to realize it's me who said that, and I'm now backing Kurt across the room.

"Yes, but in the bathroom, not Santana's room," he says, and gently turns me around.

"Sorry."

"Don't worry about it." I know he means that sentiment, too, but I wonder if there will ever come a time when I know Kurt's apartment as well as I know my own house. Still, I don't get much of a chance to dwell on it because suddenly we're in the bathroom, and I hear the shower start.

I know I'm hungry for Kurt, desperate, even, but he seems to relish it and lets me lead things, falling eagerly into my arms as my hands start to roam over his body. Feeling his naked form in my arms is something I am getting used to, but that doesn't diminish the heat it flares inside of me; on the contrary, it only seems to make it more intense. We fall apart together, under the spray, our hands slippery with soap as we wrap them around one another.

It's only then that we realize how tired and drained we are, and though it's only early evening, we pull pajamas on and fall onto the couch.

"Can I put the TV on?" Kurt asks, his head resting perfectly on my chest.

"Of course. I quite like to listen to it."

"Okay."

So it plays in the background, but actually we don't tune into it at all. We talk aimlessly, about everything but nothing in particular. We talk books, movies, funny childhood memories, friendships we've outgrown, friendships we've kept. We talk about our parents, and my brother, and we talk about his roommates, who will return tomorrow.

"I'm nervous."

"Don't be. They'll love you. Actually," Kurt sits, immediately making me wary. "I kinda have to go into work on Monday for a short time, and I was wondering if you'd be okay here with Rachel? She'll take good care of you, I swear, and you don't even have to leave the apartment if you don't want."

Truth be told, the thought of being left alone with her scares the life out of me, but she sounds preferable to the other girl, Santana. And anyway, I can't expect Kurt to be with me all the time when my trip was such a last minute thing.

"Of course," I say gallantly. "I'll just wait here for you to return."

We sleep late. In fact, when I stretch into waking and fumble to feel the time on my watch, I'm amazed to realize it's ten thirty. "My mom would have a fit."

"It's Sunday," Kurt mumbles into my neck. "We're allowed to be lazy. I like your watch. I wanna learn how to use it."

"It's Braille. Most of the time I get Siri to tell me the time, but my parents bought me this for when I'm in class, mainly. It's useful."

"This is useful too," Kurt says, his hand slowly stroking my cock, which is rapidly swelling.

"Kurt!"

"Can't help it," he says, pleased with himself. "I want you."

"Oh?" I roll over so I'm on top of him. "What do you want?"

"All of you," he whispers, and then pulls me down into a dirty kiss.

We are interrupted by the apartment door slamming back so hard against the wall that the whole place shakes. "Kurt!"

"Ugh. They're back," Kurt grumbles, tapping my backside to move me to one side. "I'm busy!" he shouts back.

"I don't care! Santana says you told her she could have my comforter. She cannot have my comforter! You tell her she can't!"

"Fuck off, Rach. Why would I tell her that?"

"Get out here," another voice drawls. "We wanna meet your honey."

"In a moment." He wraps his arms about my waist and kisses my neck. "We'll pick this up later."

My heart is pounding; despite their bickering, I know how much these girls mean to Kurt, and I want them to like me. When I don't know someone, and I'm reliant on their voice to give me clues to their thoughts, it's tough. Still, for Kurt, I pull on some shorts and a t-shirt, and follow him out into the living room, trying not to look too timid.

"Well hello," Kurt says, keeping hold of my hand. "I hardly knew you'd returned, you were so quiet. Did you enjoy your spa break?"

"It was anything but relaxing."

"Oh shut up, you're only saying that because-"

"No, no, I'm saying that, because you-"

Their rushed conversation, all over each other, makes it impossible to work out who is talking or even where in the room they are, since they both seem to move about, and I feel myself getting overwhelmed. I press a little closer to Kurt and pray it's not noticeable.

"If you'll both shut up for a second," Kurt says loudly. "Meet Blaine, my boyfriend, slash life partner...you know...whichever is easier."

"Oh. My. GOD!" one girl shrieks. "Did you two get married?"

"NO! We just... we just... talked about some stuff, that's all."

I can hear the absolute elation in Kurt's voice and it makes me smile, but I'm unable to speak; he's just floored me with the 'life partner' line.

"Hey, Blaine, I'm Santana."

"Hi."

"Oh, I'm offering my hand. Sorry."

"Oh! Right." Embarrassed, I reach out and shake her hand, but then she embarrasses me still further by cupping my cheek and cooing over me.

"He's so cute, Kurt! And oh my gosh your eyes are beautiful. Such a pretty, pretty boy. Have his babies," Santana commands. "Immediately."

"Go away."

"Blaine, I am Rachel, Kurt's best friend."

"Watch yourself, Berry," Santana says darkly.

"Well...one of," she begrudgingly corrects. "It's nice to finally meet you, after hearing all about you. How do you like New York?"

"Um... Well... it has Kurt," I say, lamely. I wish I was more forthright, like Kurt is, and I could bluntly say that it's too noisy, and smells funny...but I don't. "I liked Coney Island."

"Nobody likes Coney Island," Santana informs me. "What are your plans today?"

"Staying away from you," Kurt says, and then he laughs at something that I can't see. "You pull the ugliest faces."

"I learn it all from you. Seriously, if you have no plans, why don't we all take Blaine into Manhattan? We could do Times Square, see the Statue of Liberty, Ground Zero...why are you shaking your head at me, Kurt? Berry? What's with the frantic hand signals? Oh... Shit. He can't see."

"No," I say quietly. "I can't. Sorry."

"You don't need to be sorry to me," she says, coming closer. "Suits me fine not to do any of that stuff. How about a picnic in Prospect Park? It's not the nicest of parks, but you're not going to care, are you?"

I grin, I can't help it. Her bluntness is even worse than Kurt's but at the same time, it's entirely refreshing. "I think I'd enjoy that."

Sitting under the shade of a tree, with my arm around Kurt's waist, listening as the three of them discuss a new play set to open in a few weeks, I wonder if this is what it's like, to have friends, to lead an adult life, to be free from the constraints of living under a parent's watchful gaze? I could get used to it, that's for sure. There's a freedom to it all, which is no doubt offset somewhat by the pressure to be financially independent, but I suddenly find myself thinking that I could quite enjoy being here for college, hanging out with Kurt on weekends, maybe taking him out on dates.

That's what I'd really like to do.

Only then, there's the loudest screeching of brakes, followed by a bang, and I flinch so badly that Kurt wraps me in his arms and holds my trembling body close to his. "It's okay, it's okay," he whispers. "Just some moron driving into a wall. He's probably high."

"High? Who would drive while they're high? Who would even get high to begin with?"

"Welcome to New York," Rachel says with a laugh.

"It's true," Kurt says, still keeping me close. "The city is full of weirdos. But it's also full of vibrant, colourful, diverse people who are wonderful to be around. There's loads to do, always stuff to see... The good far outweighs the bad."

I'm not so sure on that, but being with Kurt definitely makes me feel better about a lot of things.

The rest of the afternoon goes smoothly. I don't talk a whole lot, but no one seems worried about that. In fact, I think Santana and Rachel seem to like me. When Kurt mentions that h needs to go into work tomorrow, Rachel tells me she'll take me on a walk around the neighbourhood. I can't turn her down, even though it's the last thing I want to do, so I just smile and say thank you, and pray it'll be a short trip.

Kurt leaves at eight, after making sure I've taken my shower and eaten. I guess, if we were to one day live together, he wouldn't need to do that all the time, but there's some stuff he would always need to do, like read my mail, the letters that don't come in braille, help me navigate to new places. I'm not so sure I'd like to live with someone like me, and I'm beginning to see what Cooper meant when he said I was a burden.

I rub a hand along my jaw, now sporting three days of growth. It feels strange, and I hate it, but I'm not about to ask Kurt to shave me. I think I'll just have to wait it out, and return to Ohio looking like a vagrant.

By the time Rachel is up and ready, I'm feeling a little sorry for myself, and I'm kind of relieved when Santana says she'll come too, because that means I don't have to do as much talking, only, when we sit down outside a cafe to get coffee, the interrogation starts.

"So, Blaine... Let's talk you and Kurt," Santana declares.

"Easy," Rachel says, the warning in her voice clear.

"What? I only want to know what the boy's college plans are, so I know if we're going to be needed to dry his tears for the next four years."

"I don't know about college," I admit. "I want to say I'll come here, because I know it'd make Kurt happy... But I don't know if the city is the place for me. Living in dorms, with Kurt out in Brooklyn...there'd be so many places I'd have to learn how to get to, not to mention the subway. How would I ever manage to do all of that? What if I get mugged? My mom said it's a real problem here."

"Carry pepper spray, like we do," Rachel suggests. "But you know, Blaine, you're not ever going to have any quality of life if you spend the whole time assuming you can't do stuff. Why not try?"

"I don't even know what courses there are here, what colleges."

"Hmm. You know, I took some dance class at the Helen Keller Center. You heard of that?"

"I know who she was. She left quite a legacy."

"She did, and I think you'd really benefit from some of their services. I could call them for you?"

The enthusiasm in her voice is sweet, but it only makes it harder to refuse her offer. "I think...uh... I think maybe they won't be able to offer me anything, as such. I think... I think this is it for me. This is as confident and okay with being blind as I'm going to get. I want to teach in a school for the blind, eventually, but I need to find out how I can go about that."

"That's the thing, though," Rachel, interrupts. "They do courses and things, tailored for people your age, who are thinking about their future. They support you in living away from home, and they offer advice about how to approach employment... Please let me call them, and see if you can visit? Kurt would go with you, I know he would."

"It's like a center? A place I can go?"

"Yes! And it's right here in Brooklyn. You could attend whatever college you wanted, and they'd work in conjunction with the center for you to do some orientation there, and various courses and classes."

"You must've been to a similar place at home, surely?" Santana asks.

Dazed, I shake my head. "No... My parents... They helped me instead but I... Do you think they'd help me with adjusting to the noise here?"

"Sure they would. And you know... If you did move here, you wouldn't be alone. You'd have Kurt, of course, but you'd have us, too. Berry and I both work in Manhattan, so if college was there we could meet you, take you places you need to go or whatever."

I lean back in my chair, tilting my face to the sun, and I'm grateful that they're both silent while I think things over. "Yes," I say eventually. "Call them. But before you do, I need to ask for your help with something else."


	27. Chapter 27

Kurt

Never has a day at work seemed so long as when I know Blaine is at home, waiting for me to return, and at the mercy of Santana and Rachel. I text him in the morning, as casual as can be, and he just replies that everything is fine.

Naturally, that sets me worrying, so I text again to see what he's doing, and he says they've gone out for a walk around the area. It's hardly specific, so I text again, but this time he tells me to stop worrying and he'll meet me at the apartment at five.

Well, four thirty was too late for me to leave work; I simply couldn't wait any longer. Filled with worry that Blaine has had to endure the day from hell, I leave work at three thirty instead and rush home...only Blaine isn't there.

He returns at ten minutes before five, and I hear him laughing long before the apartment door opens and Santana ushers him inside.

"Don't you have practise?" I snap, then flick my eyes to Rachel. "And don't you have work?"

"Don't be so jealous," Santana warns me, throwing her purse on the couch. "I'm going to meet George now. And I'm sleeping over at Dani's."

"And I didn't teach today, I never do on a Monday, and you'd know that if you weren't always buried in your own work. Anyway. We've had a lovely day, and I'm going on a date with Todd, so I'll be home after classes tomorrow. Have fun!"

That's it. They're gone as quick as they came, leaving Blaine standing in the middle of the room, awkwardly clutching a box from the bakery on the corner. "Are you mad?"

I sigh as the door closes, and I go to him, kissing his cheek. "No. Just a little jealous, I guess, as Santana said. I missed being with you."

"But we're together now, right?"

"Right."

"I got you something." He hands the box over and I look inside, delighted to find a huge selection of the tiny macarons that I love.

"Baby macarons!"

He laughs. "Rachel said they're..."

"My favorites. They are. Occasionally they'll buy me some when I'm down, or stressed."

"I like them."

"Macarons?"

"Santana and Rachel. They uh... they suggested you and I visit the Helen Keller Center, to see if I could get some orientation there."

"Oh?" I set the box down and guide him to the couch. "And why would you need orientation here, in New York?"

"Just if I were to...maybe...go to college here?"

"Would you like to?"

"I don't know." He takes my hand, rubbing his thumb gently over my wrist. He tries to look at me, and his face is so open and honest that I could cry. Those beautiful eyes wander about, trying to focus, and he smiles softly. "There's a lot that scares me about this place, but one thing that makes me long for it to be my home... And that one thing far outweighs the bad."

"It's the blowjobs, isn't it? That's why you want to move here."

He laughs loudly, blushing a cute shade of pink. "Totally." And then his hands are framing my face and he's kissing me with total love and devotion. "I missed you too," he whispers when we part. "Let me take you out tonight."

"Sure. There's a really nice restaurant a couple of blocks over."

"No, Kurt. Listen." I pull up short and study Blaine's face. "I want to take you out, on a date. It's all organized already so... would you like to come out with me tonight?"

"I'd... I'd love to, yes."

How does that make me so giddy? Why am I suddenly grinning from ear to ear and kicking my feet? I've been asked out on dates before. Only, this is Blaine, and I know how much thought and effort will have gone into this, and I know how much courage it will be taking him just to ask me, let alone to actually go through with it.

"Good. Uh..." He bites his lip in the cutest of ways. "Could you help me to shave?"

"I don't want you to do it for me," he insists as we stand in the bathroom. "I just want you to make sure I'm doing it okay. I have to learn to do it myself at some point, right?"

"Yes you do. As much as I love you, if your dorms are across town I am not trekking over there each day just to de-fluff you, and I doubt any roommate would be willing."

He laughs, then sets to work, lathering up his jawline. "You know, if we're still going strong after my first year, we could maybe get a place together, if you wanted?"

"I'd like that. It'd give you time to become confident in the city."

"I don't know about that."

"Shut up. You're gonna light up the sky for me, aren't you? You promised. So that means you've got to take bold steps, young man. Starting right now. Shave."

It's clear he is terrified; his hands shake as he brings the razor to his cheek but, though he is slow, he is careful and precise, giving himself as good a shave as any sighted person could.

"Perfect!"

Blaine runs his hands over his cheeks and jaw, down his neck, and then beams. For once, he can't disagree. "I have to shower, and then I'm getting dressed in Rachel's room. We need to reconvene on the couch in an hour."

Stunned, I take my leave of the bathroom and go to call my dad, instead, to fill him in on all that has taken place and to gush about my date.

I don't know what to wear, and I don't want to ask. I hear Blaine banging about, finding Rachel's room and then, clearly, finding several obstacles on the floor including shoes and her curling iron. Still laughing to myself, I eventually decide upon dark jeans and a crisp white shirt with a gray vest and lilac cravat. When I emerge into the living room, Blaine takes my breath away.

His clothes are new; presumably he's been shopping today, since he's wearing navy pants with cute little bow ties all over them, a light blue shirt, and a red bow tie at his neck. The hem of his pants are rolled up (ankles are sexy, I've discovered), and his navy boat shoes are the perfect finishing touch.

"God, you look stunning."

"Thank you. Is it okay?"

"It's more than okay. Those pants are perfectly you."

"You know why I got them? Rachel saw them but look here..." he rubs his hand over his thigh. "I can feel the bow ties!"

Such a simple thing makes him so happy, and I'm suddenly seized with an idea. "Texture!"

"Huh?"

"That's how you could organize your closet. Buy clothes with different textures, so you know that the bow tie with the raised flowers matches with the corduroy pants, or whatever."

"I like that idea."

"Ooh please let me help you with it!"

He laughs. "Sure, but right now I need you to take my arm so our date can begin."

He leads me confidently out onto the street, takes a second to work out his bearings, and then steps close to the road, listening intently. I am desperate to ask what the hell he's doing, but then suddenly he looks triumphant, and raises his arm for a cab to come to a halt right in front of us.

"How on earth?"

"Magic powers," he says, smiling as he holds the door open for me. "Santana and Rachel helped me to listen for the right engine noise."

"The right what? A car is a car is a car."

Blaine shows the driver an address on his phone then settles back next to me. "No it's not. I can tell your dad's truck from your uncle Pete's. I know that Ruth drives a station wagon but my mom's car sounds lighter because it's newer and smaller."

"You're a freak of nature."

"I'll take it as a compliment."

"You should."

This is a new Blaine, to me. This is different; he exudes a confidence that I simply haven't seen before and, if I look closely, I can see it's only a facade right now, hiding total and utter panic that he'll mess this up, but the more that goes well, the more faith he has in his abilities, and so I make a mental note to try and subtly help him if I notice him struggling, and hope he doesn't realize. Like when we step from the cab at the bottom of the Brooklyn Bridge, for example. He stands for a moment, gripping my arm tightly, then he taps his cane to the left, then the right, and sighs. I figure he's most likely heading for the park area, so I ever so subtly steer him to the right, and he seems to suddenly remember his instruction, tapping his way along the sidewalk until he discovers the entrance.

"Is this what you've been doing all day?" I ask, and Blaine ducks his head shyly.

"Pretty much. Rachel is relentless, you know that? She kept making me guide her and Santana here again and again."

"Oh yes. That's Rachel for you. But she gets great results, it seems."

"I hope so. Tell me what you see."

"Okay. Well, this is Brooklyn Bridge Park, Pier One. I can see the bridge, and the water, and on our right is a bar."

"The Garden bar?"

"Yes."

"Good."

We set off again, toward the bar, and instead of asking me to find a table, he asks a waiter, who seems to know about his arrival, because we're led to the table with the best views, and one which I've never seen free in all my visits here.

"Well this is nice."

Blaine leans across, lowering his voice. "I think he's on a promise from Santana."

"That's never gonna happen. And if it did, she'd eat him alive."

"She said as much."

We share a cheese plate, which is as much to my satisfaction as it is his, but I'm amazed when Blaine also orders a bottle of Chardonnay.

"Of course," the waiter says. "If I could just see your ID's?"

"Sure." Blaine hands over a card and waits, perfectly still, while the waiter inspects it and then mine, before handing them back to us, satisfied.

"Let me see that," I hiss when he's gone, and I snatch the card from his hand before he has a chance to shove it back into his wallet. "Blaine Anderson! This is a driver's license!"

He shrugs, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. "Santana didn't have time to fix me up with anything else."

"That guy didn't even notice!"

"Nope."

I have to laugh at the sheer absurdity of the situation but also, I can't help but feel a little jealous. "I feel as though you've made more progress with Santana and Rachel in one day than you have with me in two months."

"Don't be like that. Honestly, that couldn't be further from the truth." He reaches for my hand, and then changes his mind and moves his chair so we're adjacent to each other. "You have done, and continue to do, so much for me. Yes, they were helpful, and motivational, but they helped me with my specific requests. You... You're a long term thing. You're the only one who can talk to me about my family. You're the one I share my fears with, my hopes, my dreams. You're the one to pick me up when I fall, and you're the one who will always do that for me. No one else can know me like you do, Kurt. I'm in love with you. Yes, Santana and Rachel were kind, and helpful, but you... You're my leading light, the one I'll always need by my side, I promise."

"I have this issue," I admit, releasing a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. "I think I get too possessive. I'm scared people will leave me, like my mom did. And I know that's dumb, right? But it's why I cling so hard to my dad. It's why a lot of my past relationships haven't worked, because I've come on too strong in the hopes that they might be the one, and I don't want them to ever leave... Only, then they're not the one, and it all fails spectacularly and I'm alone again. This time, you are the one, and I tried to stay away, to save myself from heartache, only I couldn't, and now I'm getting jealous and petty and spoiling things, and I'm sorry. I shouldn't be like that. I want you to thrive, really, I do. Please don't think I'm trying to hold you back. I just... I just get scared you'll leave, that's all."

Raising my hand to his lips, he kisses the back of it and entirely ignores the waiter setting down our food. "I'm not going anywhere, Kurt," he says, and the sincerity in his voice is clear. "I need to stay for the blowjobs, right?"

I laugh out loud, unable to resist leaning over to kiss his cheek. "Yes you do, and there's a waiter just behind your right shoulder, waiting to pour your wine."

"Oh!" Embarrassed, he sits up, his face burning, and silently waits while our wine is poured. "To us?"

"To us," I agree, and we drink. Or rather, I drink, Blaine splutters, wrinkles his nose, and pulls a face.

"Yuk."

"You say that now. It gets better."

It's a perfect date night, sitting there together in the early evening sunshine, lazily drinking our wine while we talk, and I watch more and more people coming into the park.

"It's busy here tonight. Certainly for a Monday."

"They're here for the same reason we are."

"They're all on dates?"

"I don't know about that, but they're all here to watch the opera, I guess."

"The what?"

"Come on."

He pulls me to my feet, shaking his head as he does so. "That wine's made me all fuzzy."

"Hold up, drunkard. I need to pay."

"I've done it."

"Huh?"

"My date," he says proudly. "And now we're going to the opera."

I'd forgotten that the Metropolitan Opera performs a series of outdoor concerts during the summer months, and this year their closing performance is here, at pier one. The crowds are building; it's a free event and some people have been here for hours already to get the best spots on the lawn, but Blaine skirts right around the outside until we're down by the side of the stage.

"Can you find me someone who works here?" he asks me. "I need to speak with them."

I do so, and a guy comes over, nodding at whatever it is Blaine says. He disappears, and then he's back, clearing a path for us so that we can sit just a little higher on the hill, with the perfect view of the stage.

"Should be okay here, sir," he says. "Enjoy the concert."

"What was that?" I ask as we settle on the grass. "Did you just use your disability to bag a decent spot?"

"Yes and no. We could have stayed right back there, because it'll be too loud for me right down the front, but you want to see, right? And I want to relax and be able to listen, so I just asked where I could sit without worrying about people bumping into me."

"Makes sense, I guess."

"It does. Now come here."

He puts his arm around my shoulders, draws me close, and there we stay, lost in the most beautiful, awe inspiring music. I know Blaine is as moved as I am, because he takes his glasses off and wipes tears away several times. He holds me close for the rest of the evening, and even when the fireworks start, he doesn't flinch.

"Blaine?"

"Hmm?"

"This evening has been perfect. Thank you."

"My pleasure. I never imagined that taking you out on a date would be something I could do, you know? I thought I'd be reliant on you to do all of that, so it feels amazing for me, too. I told Rachel and Santana I'd like to take you to some kind of music concert, because I figured it'd be something we could both enjoy, and then Rachel remembered this was happening."

"They do it every year. I've always wanted to go to one, but I never have. The singing was incredible. And so are these fireworks, actually."

"I'm learning to like fireworks, now," Blaine admits. "Since they remind me of when we first met."

I don't know what makes place a hand onto his thigh, right near the top, but suddenly the spark of desire is ignited and though we both try to ignore it, Blaine's hand subconsciously travels down to my waist, rubbing gently along the small of my back.

There are people all around us, and fireworks lighting up the sky, but I turn to him anyway, my breath catching in my throat when he reaches out with his other hand, and gently traces the outline of my lips.

"Blaine..."

He leans in, kissing me deeply, opening his mouth wide, teasing with his tongue. I feel light headed even though the effect of the wine has long since past. I am consumed by all things Blaine, and before I know it I'm kissing back, rising to my knees and cupping his face lovingly.

The kiss is broken, and Blaine nuzzles in close, under my jaw, his warm breath tickling my ear as he speaks. "Let me take you to bed."


	28. Chapter 28

SINCERE APOLOGIES FOR THE DELAY! I am on vacation right now in Italy and I stupidly assumed there would be wifi that actually worked... There is not. Please know I haven't abandoned this work and will finish it as soon as I possibly can!

Blaine

There's a huskiness to my voice that even I don't recognize, but it spurs Kurt to his feet, where he kisses me again and again, not even caring about any onlookers.

"I love you so much," he whispers when we part. "Yes. Take me home."

I'm not really sure who leads who from the park, but I'm the one who listens intently for a cab, and hails one right away. I think the cane and the dark glasses help, to be honest.

We both know what's to come, and the anticipation keeps us on the edge of our seats for the ride home, and we all but sprint up the stairs and into the apartment, where we fall onto the couch and begin making out furiously.

"Not here," I manage to gasp between kisses. "I can't."

"God, no," Kurt agrees, already loosening my bow tie and kissing into the hollow of my throat. "Definitely not. I just needed to kiss you, that's all."

We stumble into the bedroom together, still entwined, and we're naked in seconds. That's when the panic hits. The now familiar smell of Kurt's comforter, and the touch of his hands over my body does nothing to reassure me and in the end, sensing I have some kind of issue, Kurt props himself onto one elbow next to me.

"Out with it."

"My dad gave me condoms," I blurt, my face burning. "So we'd be safe."

"Good." He kisses my shoulder. "I mean, I have some anyway, but that's just more to get through, right? Fun."

"I don't know what to do, Kurt!" I'm aware my desperate cry sounds needy and pathetic, but Kurt simply brushes the hair away from my forehead as he speaks.

"Okay, let's talk about this. Firstly, are you sure you want to?"

"Yes. Each time I'm with you I want more and more and I want this... I do."

"So what bits are you concerned about?"

"What goes where? I mean...who goes where? What position do we...? What if I'm terrible?"

"Well, that's never going to happen, for a start. Who goes where is your choice, Blaine. Whatever makes you the most comfortable, and as for position... I'd say we start pretty basic and if we want to change it up, we can. There's only us two involved in this... I hope. We're not performing for anyone. We get to decide what we do, what we try, and if we don't like something, or it's not working, we do something else."

"Why do I get to choose?"

"Because it's your first time, and I think you should. I don't mind, either way, because it's more important to me that you're comfortable."

I don't say anything for the longest time, but Kurt is content enough to let my fingers map out his face while I go over all he's said.

"I'd like to be the one um... Inside of you," I manage to choke out.

"Top. You want to top."

"Yes. If that's okay?"

"If that's..." He straddles me, kissing me like a man possessed. "That's... Blaine... Oh god, that's so hot. Fuck."

I don't know what the response would have been if I'd chosen the other option, but I don't stop to think about it; I'm too preoccupied with the feelings coursing through my body. A mixture of fear and excitement threatens to overwhelm me and I lie back, letting Kurt explore me for a moment. It's an emotive mix that I'm feeling more and more recently, but not like this.

Never as deep and profound as this.

I come to life, flipping us so that I can take him into my mouth for a moment, and then I feel the familiar bottle being pressed into my hand, and Kurt is drawing his knees up, planting his feet firmly on the bed.

"Now?"

"Fingers first," he explains. "Otherwise, ouch."

"Got it."

I lie next to him, even the feeling of Kurt hooking his leg over mine is divine, but the feel of him opening up to my touch is even better, and the noises he makes, well... They could tip me over the edge right there and then. He guides me, and I'm glad, gasping his pleasure when I add a second finger, then a third.

I'm hard and aching with want, when Kurt starts pushing down onto my hand , desperate for more. "Blaine... Just... Just tilt your fingers...oh fuck. Yes!"

"You have a dirty mouth," I say with a laugh, before kissing him hotly. "I think I like it."

His hand moves up, into my hair, absentmindedly rubbing along my scar. "Take me."

"Now?"

"Yes."

I kneel between his legs, my heart pounding fearfully. Of all the things I don't want to mess up, this has to be the biggest. I want this to be good, for Kurt, but also for us as a couple. Everything so far has brought us closer to one another, and I want this to be the same.

Kurt guides me with his hand, slowly, until I'm pressed close, as far inside of him as I can get. "I'm inside of you."

"I noticed."

We both laugh, and I duck my head, hiding in his neck. "I don't know why I said that. It just feels... So good."

Kurt surrounds me, completes me, and I feel like I could stay buried inside him forever, except there's the small issue of us both being turned on beyond belief right now, and if we don't manage to reach some kind of climax, we might just explode.

"I don't know how fast or slow to go."

"Trust your instincts, Blaine." Kurt smoothes his hands over my back, down to the swell of my ass. "You're good at that, so just go with what feels right to you."

"Okay. Kurt?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

He smiles. I know he does, and he reaches up, cupping my cheek. "I love you too."

I draw back, then push back again slowly. It feels incredible. I do it again, slightly quicker this time, and there's a part of me that'd like to just go for it, but I also know that if I do that it'll all be over in seconds, so I keep it slow and steady to start.

Kurt moans softly beneath me, and damn if that isn't the hottest thing. I lean down, burying my head into his neck and kissing there. "Good?"

"So good. How are you so controlled?"

I laugh. "I have no idea. I'm about ten seconds away from losing it completely, I think."

"Go for it."

"No. You deserve more. Longer."

"You'll last," he says, digging his fingers into my hips. "Go for it."

So I do. And wow. The temperature seems to ramp up really quickly, and I feel sweat beading on my forehead and starting to roll down my back. When I press closer to Kurt, he is damp too, and we seem to slide perfectly.

"Blaine, lift my legs."

"Huh? How do I.. ?"

"Kneel up," he patiently explains, "and pull my legs up. You'll see why."

I do as he suggests and suddenly I'm sliding deeper, can thrust harder, and Kurt is going wild, scraping his nails down my arms as I struggle to stay upright with the weight of his legs on my shoulders. Everything is shaking; I'm so tightly coiled that I know it's only a matter of time.

"Oh god, Blaine... Fuck! Fuck! Yes... Close..."

Somehow, in a Herculean show of strength, I prop myself onto one hand and reach for Kurt's cock with the other. I'm fumbling, and it's far from perfect, but then Kurt's hand closes around mine and he comes quickly, crying out loudly. "Go on, Blaine, let go."

"Kurt... I... Holy shit!"

I seem to shatter from the inside out, nearly folding Kurt in half as my arms give out and I fall forward, gasping for breath. My orgasm comes in wave after wave of deep, intense pleasure, and I'm vaguely aware that I'm making some kind of noise until I shudder hard and finally finish, breathless, elated.

"I think..." I stop, grinning for a moment, before kissing Kurt softly. "I think I just saw those fireworks that seem to figure so much in our relationship."

"Yeah? Good." Kurt's voice is so full of happiness, and worn out, that it makes my heart overflow with love for him. I land kisses all over his face, before reluctantly withdrawing and cleaning up. But it's even better after, when we cuddle close and it seems as though there's nothing at all between us; we are one. I tell this to Kurt, who laughs and tells me I'm cheesy but awfully cute.

"And right, in a way," he adds when his laughter has subsided. "Because you cursed, you dirty boy, so my influence must be rubbing off on you."

"I what?"

"You cursed. Right as you started to come."

I think it over, and then I'm horrified. "Kurt! I'm so sorry. Oh gosh... Please don't tell my mom and dad."

Kurt roars. He laughs so hard I begin to worry he won't breathe again. For my part, I just lie there, waiting patiently, wondering what on earth is so funny.

"What do you think I'm going to say?" he screeches hysterically. "Hey, Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, the first time your son fucked me, he yelled holy shit in my ear right as he came in my ass?"

"Kurt!" Suddenly seeing how ridiculous my request sounds, and also shocked by his crude description, I shove him, and he pushes me right back. A silly play fight ensues, both of us squirming about and trying to tickle or wrestle the other, until Kurt, his abilities enhanced by sight, pins me face down on the bed and lies on top of me, kissing behind my ear.

"I wouldn't tell them anyway," he whispers, suddenly serious. "But if I did, I'd tell them you made love to me with more devotion and care than anyone ever has. I love you, Blaine Anderson. I'm so very glad you stole my heart."

We sleep so soundly that night that the only thing that finally wakes us is Kurt's phone. He reluctantly rolls out of my arms to answer it, and I know that the sky is bright outside already, and from the noises within the apartment, Santana, Rachel, or both, are home.

"Yeah...I'm up," Kurt lies to whoever is on the other end of the line. "I was just catching up on... Oh. Right. Right. Yeah, I can talk with her, sure."

I leave him to it, figuring it's work calling to find out whether he's planning on showing up today. I feel bad; though his job might be pretty flexible, he still has deadlines to meet and meetings to attend, and my presence here has divided his loyalties in a big way. Pulling on some shorts, I go to the kitchen in search of coffee.

"Your hair is wild," Santana observes gleefully. "Someone had a good night, huh?"

"It was uh... It was... Yeah." I grin, I can't help it, and she laughs.

"Excellent. The best part is, I can laugh at the hickeys all over you and you can't see them. Anyway, I'm glad you had fun. Coffee?"

"Could I try and do it?"

"Sure. It's ready, you just need to... No. You know what? You'll figure it out."

I'm grateful for her continued pushing; it's refreshing to be around her, and Rachel, and definitely Kurt, who all share the attitude of making me step outside of my comfort zone. Like now, when Santana doesn't say a word as I open every cupboard I can in the search of mugs.

"Aha!" Mugs found, I move my hand carefully along the counter until I feel the heat coming from the coffee pot. "Do you think my moving here would impact badly on Kurt's work schedule?"

"Hell no. Man works too much as it is."

"It's just I'm aware he's having to juggle me being here and his job..."

"Yeah, this week, but it would be be like that always, would it! You'd have class, he'd have work, and you'd figure out times you could spend together. Like you'd sleep over on a Friday, spend Saturday here... Then have a date night Tuesday's. I don't know. Dani and I manage it, and we're often both away. You just make it work."

"What does she do?"

"Dani? She sings. And she's amazing."

"I'd like to meet her sometime."

"You will. You should play piano for her. Kurt says you're good."

"I'd like that."

"I mean for some of her gigs. She does some fancy stuff; weddings and things. Always needs someone to accompany her. Oh my god, you two would look adorable together." She sighs dreamily, making me laugh and forget myself for a moment.

"Ouch! Damn!"

"What's wrong? Did you burn yourself?"

"A little," I say, shaking my hand angrily. "But it's fine."

It's not, it hurts like hell, but I think the pain is more from embarrassment than anything. Setting the coffee pot down, I take a deep, calming breath. I can do this, I remind myself. One day, in the distant future, I want to be able to make my husband coffee every morning, so I might as well start doing it now.

I regroup, pouring the coffee and using the tip of my pinky to figure when the cup is nearly full. I find what I hope is creamer in the fridge, and Santana confirms it's right. "Kurt has a whole load of that shit. Rachel never does, and I have a dash. Got it?"

"I think so. Is Rachel here?"

"Nope, just telling you for next time."

"Oh." Satisfied, I hand her a mug and she tries it.

"Not bad. You can visit more often."

"Ha! Well, thank you. Um..."

"Yeah, yeah, go get laid again. I'm going out in a moment anyhow, so scream as loud as you choose."

Embarrassed, I walk slowly toward Kurt's room with the two mugs in my hands, feeling disorientated without one hand out in front of me. "Uh, Santana? Could you just...?"

"You've got it. Right a tiny bit and then you're there."

She's right, I'm almost directly in front of the door and that pleases me immensely. I push it open with my toe and smile in the direction of the bed. "I made coffee."

"You did this?" Kurt asks. He scrambles to the end of the bed and takes the cups from me, leaving me free to sit back against the pillows.

"I did."

"You know my coffee order?"

"Of course I do. Well, Santana does, but now I do too."

"Aw." Kurt kisses my cheek. "Thank you. So, we need to talk."

"What did I do?"

"Nothing!" Kurt answers quickly, but I'm no fool. I can hear the panic in his voice and I know he's worrying about how to say something without upsetting me. "Work called."

"You need to go in? That's okay, I can amuse myself."

"No, no, that's not... Well, kind of. I need to go upstate to report on a shoot."

"Like you did before?"

"Yeah, exactly. The girl that's supposed to cover them keeps dropping out, and to be honest, I'd like her job since it's better paid and better hours, so it's in my interest to step up when she does this."

"Definitely. When is it?"

"Um... It's now. As in, today."

"Oh. Is it far?"

"Yeah, it's at Saranac Lake, about five hours from here."

"But that's... You can't do that in a day!"

"Here's my next question."

I feel the dread settle over me. I know Kurt's going to ask if I'll be okay here overnight, and I have no choice but to answer yes. The truth is though, I'd rather have him with me, keeping me safe. I don't think he has any idea how calming an influence his presence has over me.

"Do you fancy a road trip?"

"What?" My brain stops, backs up, and does an about turn. "Huh?"

"I'd kinda like to introduce you to some of the people I work with, plus they'll pay for me to have a hire car... We could actually...if you want to... We could camp out tonight and tomorrow, then drive back to the city on Thursday, and visit the Helen Keller Center together? I explained that you're with me, and that's fine, so I only need to cover the shoot today and tomorrow morning. After that, I'm free until Monday."

"Yeah," I say, taking the plunge into the unknown. "Why not?"


	29. Chapter 29

Kurt

As we drive out of the city, Blaine calls his mom to tell her we're going camping. I make him put the phone on speaker, because I'm cruel like that, and I'm rewarded with Lorna's hysteria over her son "running wild about the United States" as she puts it.

"You don't know what to do in a tent, Blaine! You've only been in one once before, when you were eight, and daddy and I were both with you...and you weren't blind!"

"I think I have a pretty good idea of what to do," Blaine says calmly, his hand creeping up my thigh. "And it'll be fun. It's nice to escape the noise of the city, too."

"So you don't like it there? I knew you wouldn't. Do you want daddy to fly out and collect you?"

"No." He clears his throat, and when he speaks again his voice is firm and strong. "I think I'm going to apply to colleges here, mom. Kurt and I have an appointment at the Helen Keller Center on Thursday, and they can talk through various options with me. It looks like I might be able to get a scholarship to help with the costs of Braille textbooks and stuff, and NYU do a course in music and early years education."

"... This is... This is exactly what I feared would happen," Lorna says weakly. "So I guess you think you'll be living with Kurt?"

"Not yet. It's a bit too soon, don't you think? Moving here would be a massive change for me, and I'd want to get to grips with all of that first, before I took such a massive step with Kurt."

"Oh. I see. Well, that's very...admirable, I guess. Oh Blaine. I'm so proud of you yet so fearful and I just...I try so hard to let you go, like daddy says we must, but you're my baby."

The sound of her crying leaves Blaine not knowing what to say, and he drops his head in despair.

"I'm taking good care of him, Lorna," I call. "I promise you. Blaine is so strong that he can achieve whatever he wants to, as long as he has plenty of family and friends around to love and support him."

"Thank you, Kurt. That means a lot. Sorry, Blaine, I didn't mean to get upset. I am pleased you're having a good time, really."

"S'okay," he mumbles. "I'm gonna go now. I'll call you tomorrow. Love you."

"Sure, baby. Love you too."

"Ugh."

I glance over to where he sits, his head leaning back on the headrest and his eyes raised heavenward. "You okay?"

"Yeah. She's always gonna be like this, isn't she?"

"Yep. You wait. She'll get worse when you introduce her to her grandkids."

"Babies?"

"In the far off future and don't you even try and say you haven't thought about it, Blaine Anderson!"

He opens his mouth to rebuff it, then thinks better of it and laughs instead. "I love you."

"I love you too."

We talk for a while more, mainly about my job, and the people Blaine will be meeting today. He likes to know a lot of detail beforehand, and I guess I can't blame him for that.

"I used to date one of the photographers," I add casually. "Just so you know. His name's Jake."

"Oh. Right." He stiffens, dropping my hand and turning his face to the window. "Did you sleep with him?"

I sigh. "Blaine... I've got ten years on you."

"So... Yes."

"Yes. But we only dated a few months."

"You were quick off the mark then."

"Hey! Don't get petty. If we'd met when we were both twenty five it'd be a whole different story and you know it."

"So he was better than me?"

"No!"

"Don't lie!"

"Don't tell me I'm lying when I'm not! Yeah, we had sex, we were adults in a consenting relationship for a short time, but I never loved him. I've never loved anyone except you. I've never laid with someone, talking about our future together, because I've never thought that far ahead. I've never daydreamed of weddings, and lazy Sunday mornings, of babies, of...of...of owning a fucking minivan, living in the suburbs and picking out curtains!"

Exasperated, I pick up my speed, huffing loudly into the silence. It's a good few minutes before I'm calm enough to look over to Blaine, but when I do, I see that he's grinning from ear to ear.

"What?"

"Minivans," he says with a silly smile. "Curtains."

"Yeah... Well..."

"I love you, Kurt. I'm sorry for getting jealous."

My anger dissipates just as soon as it had arrived and I take his hand in mine, raising it to my lips. "I love you too."

Content, I let Blaine fiddle about with the radio until he finds some eighties station and his whole face lights up with joy. He sings along loudly, even when the reception dips in and out, and I end up joining in too; his enthusiasm is infectious.

"You sing really well," I tell him as he belts out Duran Duran. "Like, really, really well."

"Love singing," he says over the track. "Santana said Danni might need a piano player. Maybe she'd let me sing backup."

"I'm sure she would. She's a sweet girl."

"OH!" he shouts loudly as a new song starts up. "Love lift us up where we belong! Do you know this?"

I laugh loudly. "Wow, yes I do. Seriously cheesy."

"Sing with me, come on. I don't remember when I last had the chance to sing like this. Please?"

Who can resist Blaine's gorgeous pout, or his warm amber eyes which seem so big and round as he pleads with me? We duet, very well if I do say so myself, and from there we keep at it, meaning the whole journey passes super quick.

The shoot is set up on the edge of a dense forest, where the river runs alongside some stunning rock faces. It really is a beautiful area, and I try as best I can to describe it all to Blaine, but I feel I fail miserably. It hits me again just how entirely unfair life is; I want Blaine to see all this, to experience it with me, but he can't. He can only stand patiently by my side as I talk to my boss and the director of the shoot, Molly.

"So this is your man?"

"It is indeed," I say proudly, but I don't miss the way her eyes flick to his cane and dark glasses. I haven't told anyone at work that Blaine is blind; there didn't seem to be any need. I just mentioned that I had a boyfriend and that he was in town for a few days. "Blaine, this is Molly, and also Andrew, stylist for today."

Blaine is well-bred, and greets everyone politely, making small talk and generally giving a good impression. I can tell they're all impressed. It's only when I introduce him to Jake that his grip on my arm tightens somewhat, but he keeps his cool.

"Do you like photography, Blaine?" Jake asks, and his lack of intelligence instantly reminds me of why we ended.

"Uh... well, I'm blind."

"Yeah, I know, but are you into taking pictures and stuff?"

"Not really, no. But Kurt tells me you're very talented."

"Thanks! Yeah, I love it. You should try it some time."

"I'll keep it in mind," Blaine says politely, then steers me away and we just manage to duck out of sight behind a tree before he erupts into laughter.

"I told you there was nothing to worry about!"

"I know... Oh dear." He stops, wiping tears from his eyes. "I feel bad for laughing, because he seems nice, but wow."

"Yeah, he's not the smartest. What can I say? I traded up."

"Whereas I started at the very top." Blaine leans in, kissing me softly.

"Yeah, it's all downhill from here," I whisper, before pulling him close once more.

As much as I'd like to make out with him all day, I can't, and I set to work, interviewing models, stylists, and writing up the details of the shoot as I go. Initially I worry about Blaine, and what he'll do all afternoon, but Andrew quickly discovers that if he describes the texture of an outfit or accessory to Blaine, he can find it, and thus his job is decided upon. He proves himself to be quick, hard working and, as Andrew says "A total and utter godsend." In fact, he's so grateful to him for the help that he drives back a few miles to the country store on the main road and returns with a bottle of whiskey for him.

"He's seventeen!" I cry, horrified. "He can't take that home to his parents!"

"Ah well. Keep it," he says, patting Blaine on the shoulder. "Drink it all in one sitting when you turn twenty one. Share it with Kurt, I don't care. But enjoy."

Blaine grins shyly, and takes the bottle. I see him blossoming right before my very eyes, and the sadness I had earlier, about him not being able to experience life in the same way, is replaced by a warmth and positivity as I realize that although life might be different for Blaine, that doesn't mean it can't be just as good, and just as rewarding.

"I had fun," Blaine tells me later that evening. "I thought I'd be nervous, and that I'd just have to sit and wait, but the time went really quickly."

"Good." I finish gathering my stuff and hoist my bag onto my shoulder. "I'm glad."

"Andrew's nice."

"He's great. I see him a lot, but don't work with him much, if you get me."

"Hold up, did you used to date him, too?"

"Ha! His wife might have something to say about it if I did."

"Oh."

"So... we have a very short drive to where we're staying. I think we should call at that little store first, collect some supplies and then see where the night takes us, huh?"

"Sure." Blaine takes my hand and we walk slowly back to the car together. "Though I think I have a pretty good idea how it's going to end up."

Since my booking was last minute, I had to take what was on offer, but to my surprise the so-called luxury tent is actually just that. It's small, but it has soft flooring and mountains of pillows and duvets filled with soft down for us to snuggle under. I've also paid a ridiculous amount of money for someone to set a fire for us, because I'll be damned if I'm doing that myself. My dad would be horrified. Still, it's blazing brightly as night falls, and we sit side by side, enjoying the warmth it brings.

"Let's open the whiskey," Blaine decides suddenly.

"Really? I was just going to make hot chocolate."

We mix the two, and Blaine chokes hard on his first sip, making me laugh, but then he gets to grips with it and we sit in a contented silence, warmed by both the alcohol and the fire, until I rest my head onto his shoulder and speak.

"I don't want you to go home."

"At least I'm going back with a purpose though, right? A plan for the future."

"Definitely."

"And it's my first Dodgeball game on Wednesday."

"Blaine, how the hell do you play Dodgeball? Do they put a bell in the ball?"

"Blind Dodgeball they do. Not regular."

"But you play the blind version, right?"

"Nope. Regular. I just listen extra hard. Use my superpowers."

"You're so... Weird."

He laughs loudly. "I'll take it."

Everything about Blaine enchants and enthralls me; from his frankly bizarre ability to play Dodgeball well enough to make the school team, to the cute way his nose wrinkles when he laughs; from the dark stubble that seems to spread across his jaw as the day wears on, to the way he sets his mug to one side now, and lies down on the duvet, his dark eyes scanning what is for him, an empty sky.

"Are there stars?"

I lie next to him, slotting his hand into mine. "Yeah. Lots."

"Kurt?"

"Hmm?"

"We're gonna make it, you and I."

"Yep. We are."

There's a quiet, calm assurance to both our words. Not questions but statements of fact. I know, for sure, that this is the man I will marry. This is the man who will be by my side for the rest of my life.

I roll onto my side, tilting his face to mine, and kiss him gently. "I love you so much," I whisper, before kissing him again, the passion quickly building between us.

"I think we should take this inside," Blaine manages to get out, while I concentrate on kissing along his jaw.

It's impossible to stand up in the tent, so I shuffle in on my hands and knees with Blaine following. The glow of the fire casts a tiny amount of dim light inside, enough for me to make out Blaine lying on his stomach, propped on his elbows.

"Stay there," he says, and while I'm still kneeling, he reaches for my zipper.

"Oh god... Blaine..."

I feel myself rapidly swelling into his palm as he he lowers my pants and then my underwear, and then his mouth is there; his lips traveling from my hipbone across and down to my cock.

He stops.

"Are you laughing?"

"No! Well... Kind of. A bit... I'll explain another time. Get back to what you were doing, it's good."

"You tell me I'm weird, and yet you're the one laughing at a... You know."

"You can say the word blowjob," I tell him, laughing harder.

"No I can't! It's rude."

"It's not!"

Maybe it's the whiskey, maybe it's the newfound certainty between us, maybe it's the freedom of being in the great outdoors, but we wind up in a silly, giggling heap, until I pin Blaine down and kiss him hard.

"Hello, boyfriend."

He grins up at me. "Hello."

"Can you suck my dick, please?"

"Oh my goodness!" Blaine covers his face with his hands. "You are so rude! But... Sure," comes the muffled reply. And he composes himself quickly, opening wide and letting me push myself into the warm heat of his mouth.

It's perfect. So perfect, in fact, that I find myself holding tight to Blaine's hair and perhaps pushing deeper and harder than I intended, causing him to gag slightly.

"Sorry!" I pull back but he keeps his hands on my hips, just guiding me gently. "Sorry. I just... God I wish this was your ass."

"It can be," he says, suddenly pulling off. "If you want?"

"You sure?"

"Most definitely."

We find out many things that night, like Blaine is a screamer when I really pound into him, and that he's also immensely talented at riding me equally as hard. We find out that sleep is overrated, but long cuddles and more whiskey, followed by slow, gentle, lazy lovemaking as the sun rises, is utter perfection.

We also find out that when you've got crackers, some milk, some fruit, some duvets and each other, there's really no need to move at all.

So we don't.

Other than taking occasional dips in the lake in our underwear, we spend our time cocooned in the tent or sitting by the fire that I keep paying for, making love and talking about the future, until the time comes that we must head back to the city, and reality begins to bite.


	30. Chapter 30

Burt.

I'm not at all surprised that Kurt has ended up flying back with Blaine. That boy always was a romantic fool, so it figures that he'll be even worse when he's actually in love. I offered to give them both a ride from the airport, and then I asked Marcus Anderson if he'd like to come along for the ride. He's a good guy.

We talk a little on the way; he tells me Blaine's meeting at the blind lady center place went well, and that he had called home, gushing about his plans for the future.

"That's good, huh?" I ask as we drive. "I mean, I've only known him a few months but already I see such a massive change in his outlook and confidence."

"It is good, yes," Marcus agrees. "I think... I think that, when the accident first happened, I thought I'd be taking care of this lost little boy for the rest of my life. Now I think he'll be just fine without me. He has Kurt."

"He does, but more importantly, he has himself. I think that's the key. He and Kurt can be as smitten as they like, but Blaine is learning to rely on himself, and that's the most important thing."

"I thought they'd want to live together," Marcus admits. "I was surprised to hear Blaine say he would go into dorms."

"Yeah. I don't think that's been an easy choice for either of them, but a necessary one. A sensible one, that's for sure."

"Burt, do you know... Is there a reason for Kurt flying back with him?"

"He wants to see the Dodgeball game."

"Oh." Marcus breathes a sigh of relief and leans back against the headrest. "I see."

"He's not pregnant."

"No." He laughs. "No. I just thought... I wondered if they were going to announce their engagement or something."

"After three months? They might be besotted with each other, but neither of them are stupid."

"No. Of course not."

"It'll happen though. In time."

"I have no doubt it will." Marcus nods his agreement then glances over at me. "I've already started to prepare Lorna."

Something has changed between Kurt and Blaine; I see it the moment I first catch sight of them. I look over at Marcus, and wonder if he sees it too. Clearly they've been intimate, that much is evident, but there's something else. They appear as equals; a couple who are secure in their feelings for one another, in their plans for the future, and who share the same dreams. Blaine stands tall...well, as tall as he can, and proud. He holds Kurt's hand confidently, with his other hand pulling his suitcase, not using his cane. The biggest difference to me, though, is that he doesn't have his dark glasses in place. Instead, he lets his eyes wander, and they seem to sparkle as Kurt says something to make him laugh.

"He's..."

"Grown up," Marcus finishes, and when I look, I see he's beaming with pride. "He looks like a man."

To mine and Kurt's delight, Blaine is overjoyed to be reunited with his dad; he hugs and kisses him warmly and even uses his fingers to find his dad's smile, which he then returns. "New York was amazing, dad! I mean, I didn't like it at first, and I had to do a lot of stuff that I thought I couldn't do, but I did it. And then, Kurt and I went camping upstate and you know what? I missed the city! I actually missed it! Oh, and the Helen Keller Center was amazing. So great. I want you to visit there with mom and Cooper. Will you? They can tell you all about how they can help me at college and I can do more orientation work with them... Like, they'll help me with navigating certain routes and stuff, so Kurt wouldn't have to. And I made friends! Kurt's roommates are great, but also, I met this guy, Andrew, who works with Kurt and he said..."

Blaine carries on, his words tripping over one another and rolling into one long, excited monologue which carries on while we all walk out to the car, giving me time to talk with Kurt.

"It went well, then?"

"So good." He smiles, looking like the little boy I used to hold in my arms. "We're on the same page. All the stuff I was worried about? All laid to rest. It's like... like I just know, you know? I just know it'll all be okay. We have these coming few months to get through; with Blaine here and me in New York, but we'll be together when we can be... And it helps that Blaine is willing to come visit me, too. After that, though? He'll be in the city, we can really be together properly and then..."

He stops talking, but I know my son, and I know his head is filled with distant dreams of marriage, babies and being a family.

"And I had whiskey!" Blaine suddenly lets slip. "And wine! Santana hooked me up with a fake driver's license, which is so funny, and I ordered wine!"

"Blaine!" Kurt is horrified at first, but then he gives in and laughs. "You can't tell your dad stuff like that!"

"Why not? I didn't get drunk! Well, not really wasted. Just a little tipsy, I guess."

"Okay, Blaine, I'm glad you had fun," Marcus says as we all climb into the car. "But let's remember that there's some stuff we don't repeat at home."

We leave the two of them alone in the back seat; they seem unable to be separated and Kurt sits in the middle with his head resting on Blaine's shoulder. It's nauseatingly cute.

"Hey dad," Kurt calls. "Tell Blaine the plot of Brokeback Mountain."

"What? Oh gosh, Kurt. I don't know. You know that movie far better than I do."

"I know, but just tell him what happens."

I sigh, trying to think. "All I know is that something went down in the tent."

"That's why you were laughing?" Blaine asks, and Kurt nods. "Kurt Hummel! That is... That's..."

They lose it. Whatever it is I've said, it's clearly amused them both, because I swear they laugh for a good ten minutes solid, clutching at one another and wiping away tears.

"I don't get it," Marcus says, confused.

"Neither do I. I tell you, Marcus, there are certain things in life that I'll never understand, and that movie is one of them."


	31. Chapter 31

Blaine

It feels weird to say goodbye to Kurt, having spent all week in his company. Still, I might not be with him tonight but you can bet he'll be over tomorrow morning, ready to drive me back to his dad's place, because Burt will be out at work.

Our parting is awkward, because Burt is in the car, and my dad is standing right by my side, clearly not understanding that we could do with a moment alone.

"I'll call you tonight," I whisper quietly, and I press my cheek to Kurt's, feeling him smile against me.

"Sure. Love you."

"I love you too." I find his lips, briefly, but my dad clears his throat so loudly that I pull back quickly, embarrassed.

"It's okay," Kurt says with a laugh. "I'm going."

"That was rude," I tell dad as Burt drives away.

"It was not! I had something in my throat."

"Yeah right."

"I like Kurt, Blaine, you know I do, and I'm trying to fight your corner. It's just that sometimes you two are...I don't know. Too intimate to watch, I guess."

"Then don't watch."

"Fine."

"But thank you for fighting our corner," I add as he leads me to the front door. "You really are an awesome dad."

"I don't know about that." He laughs, patting my shoulder. "But thanks. Was the credit card useful?"

"Yes. Thanks."

"Good. And the other things? The uh... You know."

"Um... Yes."

"Right. Excellent." Dad clears his throat again, and pushes his key into the door. "Well. Let's end this awkwardness and go inside."

Dad is right; there are some things that mom doesn't need to know, and as much as I love her, I know she will flip out if she learns I've had even a sip of alcohol during my time in New York, so I tell her the other stuff instead. To my surprise, she is super enthusiastic about the Helen Keller Center, and pretty soon I learn her reasons why.

"You're going to go to New York whether daddy and I say you can or not," she points out. "And this place sounds like they can offer you the help you need to make the city your home. I'm not saying Kurt can't, but I think that the two of you will need to concentrate on your relationship, and how that will change with you both being in the same place. So if this center can ease the burden of navigating to places, talking to teachers, finding braille textbooks and so on, then I'm all for it."

"Wow."

"I know!" she says happily. "Bet you didn't think you'd get that response, did you?"

"No."

"I've been doing a lot of thinking while you've been away, and I'm trying as hard as I can to loosen up a little, and to treat you like the adult you are."

"Wow. Thanks mom." She hugs me tight, and I decide to try my luck. "Can Kurt sleepover tomorrow night?"

"No he cannot."

"Damn."

Her answer to that was entirely expected, so there's not a lot to be upset about, really. I leave her and dad with the email address I was given, so they can arrange to speak to people at the center and maybe go visit sometime.

Exhausted from a whirlwind week, I head upstairs, happy to fall onto my own bed once more, but undeniably sad not to be in Kurt's apartment, with the never ending noise from the street floating up to the open window.

"Hey Blaine."

Cooper's arrival rouses me; I hadn't realized I'd fallen asleep. "Hey. Come in."

"Are you coming down for dinner?"

"It's dinner already?"

"Nearly."

"Oh."

He sits on my bed next to me, ruffling my hair. "So. It was good, then? Kurt's good?"

His forthrightness stuns me and I sit, my face burning. "It was uh...Okay."

"Only okay?" He nudges me. "I'd have thought it was better than that."

"Well." I can't help but smile. "It was amazing."

Laughing, Cooper ruffles my hair once again, and I feel myself starting to relax.

"It was weird at first," I confide. "But it got better."

"That's to be expected, Blaine."

"Yeah, I mean, first time and all that. But Kurt is... Kurt is a really good lover," I blurt. "He's sweet, and considerate, and we tried so much..."

"Woah! Woah, hold up!" Cooper shouts suddenly. "I was asking about your visit, Blaine, not about your nocturnal activities!"

"What? Why didn't you say that?"

"I did! I asked if it was good!"

"You asked if Kurt was good!"

"Yeah, as in, is he okay...not is he any good at sex. Holy hell! Why would I want to know that?"

"I don't know. I was having a hard time understanding it, really."

"Jesus," Cooper mutters, and a brooding silence falls. "Well, now we know how your mind works," he says eventually, and then he laughs.

"I'm so sorry!" I say as I laugh with him. "I just... yeah. It's on my mind. A lot."

"Yeah it will be. But I'm glad you're happy."

"Cooper?"

"Yeah?"

"Is it normal to want it all the time?"

"Blaine!"

"Please? I can't ask dad, can I?"

"Ask Kurt!"

"I would, but we both seem to want it an awful lot, and I don't want to ask him if it's normal and then he thinks it's not, and then I don't end up getting it as much."

"Ha! Okay." He composes himself, though it takes some time. "At first, yeah. You won't be able to stop. And with the two of you being apart so often? It's likely that when you are together, that's pretty much all you'll want to do. It'll ease off, when you move in together, or when adult things happen, like bills, and jobs, and stuff, but those moments that you do get will mean everything. For now, though, I'd make the most of it. Have as much sex as you can, little brother, and don't you dare tell mom I said that."

"As if."

"And stay safe."

"We are."

"Good."

"We used all the condoms dad gave me."

"I did not need to know that." He gets up from the bed and I hear him stretching out his back. "Come have dinner."

"Okay."

"And Blaine?"

"Yeah?"

"I just want to say...I'm ridiculously proud of you. Not for the sex, you understand, but for the confidence you've found; the way you're growing up and taking control of your life. I think- if i'm honest- part of my resentment towards you has stemmed from guilt, because I was the one driving, I was the one who made you this way, and then I resented having to care for you. At times, I felt like you impacted my life negatively; you took up all of mom and dad's time, I was always having to drive you places, let you tag along...But I'm sorry, because now I'll look back and treasure those moments. I should have made more of them, I think. But I am so proud to see you heading out into the world on your own, to be with Kurt."

I nod, overcome and unable to speak.

"I'm sorry I did this to you, Blaine. I never meant for..."

"Stop!" I choke out, finding his hand. "Please stop. It was never your fault, Cooper, never. I know you'd take it all away if you could but trust me, I'm glad it was me and not you. That's what makes us brothers, what shows me how much we care for each other. I think I'd resent having to care for someone too, at times, but that doesn't mean you don't love me or want the best for me, and I know that, okay? So please don't apologize again. Just be there, because I'm always going to need you, no matter what."

"For sex talks, right?"

"Totally."

He laughs, but I know he's crying when he holds me tight, because I'm crying too.

Kurt arrives before eight, and because it's Saturday my parents are still eating breakfast. I try to escape with a quick goodbye but of course, mom isn't having that at all, and calls Kurt inside for French toast.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper as we trail her down the hallway.

"Hey, it's okay. It's nice. Your parents have always tried to welcome me."

"Yeah, but I just want to be alone with you."

"Same, but we've got time."

Sure, we might have a whole day stretching in front of us, but I want that day to begin now. My parents notice my surliness, and dad digs a finger in my ribs when I snap at mom that we've eaten enough.

"Be grateful," he hisses. "She's trying her best. You've been away for a whole week, Blaine, and she's never been without you before. She's pleased to have you back. Both of you."

"But..."

"More coffee, Kurt?" Mom asks, and I try not to groan when he accepts.

"I'm on your dad's side," Kurt teases, but his hand under the table, squeezing my thigh, tells me what's to come.

Somehow, the suspense becomes a wonderful thing, and even when we finally make it into Kurt's car, we don't give in to our desires and stop to make out. Instead, we drive in silence, with my hand slowly moving up Kurt's leg until it's rubbing along the crease at the top of his thigh. I feel him hardening but I don't let my fingers stray closer; I just keep teasing.

His breath hitches, and then his hand closes over my wrist. I'm also pretty sure the speed of the car picks up, because the journey seems shorter than usual and soon we're coming to a stop.

"Blaine..."

Kurt's voice is rough, low, and he practically pulls me into the house and straight up the stairs into his room, where he pins me up against the door and finally, finally, kisses me hard. Round one is over quickly, but it doesn't even matter anymore. We lie together after, breathing hard, a tangled mass of limbs, and we laugh, knowing full well that we'll just spend the next few hours pleasuring each other over and over again.

"Oh God I was desperate," Kurt says, kissing into my hair. "And it's been what? Just over twenty four hours? Don't move to New York, Blaine. Neither of us will be able to walk after a week, and I'll lose my job, you won't make class..."

"I told Cooper we have loads of sex."

"You what?" He laughs again. "Oh Blaine."

"He said it'll change when real life happens."

"Probably. Doesn't mean I won't want you, though. And hey, we might not have as much time, but that means that when we do have time, it'll be incredible, right?"

"That's what he said too."

"Oh? Quite the conversation you had then, huh?"

"Hmm." I think back over it, my fingers trailing up and down Kurt's spine. "You know when you feel like everything's okay, after it being weird? I feel like that. Like we got right back around to how we were. Before I met you, before the accident, even. Like we were as kids, almost. It was good."

"I'm glad." Kurt kisses my chest and holds me close. "I love you, Blaine, and I am so, so happy that everything is working out for you, because you deserve it."

"I love you too." I lift his chin, and graze my fingers over his lips before kissing him. I can feel the faint stirrings of arousal again already, but it can wait. This moment, this total and utter peace that we share, is far more important. "You know what, Kurt? Over the last few years, I've heard so many people say they pity me for the life I have. I've felt it myself, too. You know I have. But you know what I've come to realize? Nobody should pity me, or feel sorry for me, because I'm the luckiest guy alive."


	32. Chapter 32

Ten Years Later.

Kurt.

We made it, Blaine and I. There were times when I thought we wouldn't; when the stresses of life, coupled with Blaine's disability all just seemed too much for either of us to cope with; times when we honestly felt like if we never saw each other again it'd be too soon. But if I added all those times up, all those arguments over work, school, money, or who forgot to take the trash out, they wouldn't even make the tiniest drop in the ocean of love we feel for one another.

The remainder of Blaine's senior year dragged as soon as our plans for the future were in place. Thanks to a very understanding boss, I made it home for each and every one of Blaine's dodgeball games, which were incredible to watch. Our time together was always limited, though, because Blaine's parents resolutely refused to let him sleep over. Still, they did let him visit New York for New Year's, and when they all came to visit NYU and Helen Keller Center, he stayed with me rather than in the hotel.

Blaine moved to New York a week after graduating. It was a challenge, but an exciting one. He became best friends with Andrew, which made me happy. They discovered a shared love of dodgeball, and Blaine joined a local team rather than the college one, because he felt more comfortable with a friend. Andrew and his wife continually welcomed us into their home, and boosted Blaine's confidence still further when they asked him to tutor their child, Josh, who is dyslexic. Blaine has the time and patience required for such a task. I do not.

We moved in together at the start of Blaine's second year, keeping the apartment I was already in since Blaine was comfortable there. Santana went traveling with Dani, and Rachel moved in with her fancy boyfriend whose job title I still don't know.

Living with Blaine was immediately incredible. We were already confident in our relationship and we knew each other well, but it was another step, and we learned stuff we never knew before as well as feeling that this was it now, this was the true start of our life together.

I proposed on Blaine's twenty first birthday, and we married just a month after he finished college. Blaine worked for a time at the Helen Keller center, and then he was offered a job at the Perkins School for the Blind, just outside of Boston. It came as a shock; he had visited there once, for a conference, and had no idea he was being headhunted.

At the time, I had not long been promoted myself, and after much discussion (okay, and a few arguments), Blaine declined the job. I think he regretted it, though it had been him who decided we should stay in New York. I had been adamant that he should take the chance, but he said the timing wasn't right.

Maybe it's that weird intuition he has, the one that means he can sense when a storm is coming, or when I roll my eyes at him, or makes him incredibly good at dodgeball, but Blaine was right. Eighteen months later, Cooper and his wife of six months announced they were moving to Boston, to be nearer to her family. A week after that, our magazine had to make redundancies. Given my length of service, they offered a good package; enough for us to combine with our savings and put down a deposit on a house. Then the Perkins school called again, offering Blaine a better job, this time as head of elementary education.

It was all falling into place, and, though it was still a big step for both of us, we decided to make the move. Almost instantly it felt right. I worked from home, freelance writing, which meant I could drive Blaine to and from work each day, and coming home at night to our perfect house with the love of my life, was, and continues to be, the most incredible thing.

Blaine might not have sight, but he has insight into everything. He knows me far better than I could ever hope to know myself. My sadness over Blaine's blindness disappeared as time moved on, and it just became a thing that was; like the scars on his body. Physically we both bore scars, in fact, but our hearts were made whole by each other, and the addition of one very special person.

Life was good.


	33. Chapter 33

Blaine

The day I held our daughter in my arms was the day that I could see it all. Every time my mom had worried, fussed, panicked or cried over me; every time she tried to keep me by her side as if I were a small child, now made sense. The need to protect, to love, cherish, and keep safe this tiny little bundle, was instant and overpowering. I knew then, as she must have known all that time ago, that I would sacrifice all that I have, all that I am, for my daughter's happiness.

Kurt and I hadn't been thinking about a child. It was always on the horizon, for sure, but we'd been so busy with life that neither of us had gotten around to talking about it, until we paid a visit home. Sitting around the table at my parent's house, I was next to Burt, who was like a cat on a hot tin roof throughout the meal.

"Out with it then," I said after putting up with his restlessness for more than half an hour.

"Out with what?"

"Whatever it is that's bugging you. You're driving me insane."

"I swear you have secret eyesight and you're not letting on," he grumbled. "Tell them, Lorna."

"Oh... um..."

"Mom?"

"I think daddy should say," mom blurted out. She was unusually flustered about something, just as Burt was, and it fell to my dad to calm everyone.

"You know Nancy, from church?"

"Nope."

"You do, Blaine."

"Mom, if I knew Nancy, I'd say. I have no clue who she is."

"But you..."

"Okay, well, Nancy goes to church," my dad called over her, while she mumbled about me having been to this woman's house when I was five. "And she has a granddaughter, Ellie, who is fifteen."

"So?"

"She's pregnant."

There was a pause. I remember it went on for fourteen seconds, though it felt much longer. Kurt encouraged me to count the length of pauses, but they still always seemed long.

"I am not responsible," I said at last, and Burt roared with laughter while my mom gasped and my dad rolled his eyes (I don't need to be able to see to know that).

"Be sensible," he chided.

"It wasn't me, either," Kurt chimed in, and then we both laughed.

"We know it wasn't either of you two," my mom huffed, annoyed at our silliness. "But the baby is going to be put up for adoption, and we wondered if you might be interested."

Suddenly, it was as though both of us had been slapped, hard, and then a bucket of ice had been dumped over us for good measure.

"What?"

"That's..." Kurt stammered. "I mean...we haven't... We only moved five months ago, and Blaine..."

"Yeah, I mean..." I stopped, feeling Kurt's eyes on me. I turned, taking his hand in mine as I tried to look at him. Not to see him, no, but to feel what he was saying, because in that moment, both our minds became attuned to one another.

"I think you boys better take a walk," Burt said quietly. "Come back with your questions."

Outside, I remember it was raining lightly as Kurt took my hand and we started to walk slowly, without any purpose or direction. We were silent for a long time and then, when I gently squeezed Kurt's fingers, he asked "Do you want...?"

"Yes."

"So do I."

That was it.

Discussion followed, of course. Lots of it, in fact. It was decided that while we would be the baby's legal parents, we would always make sure it knew its biological mother. Ellie was a sweet girl, from a good family, who had made some unwise choices, but she wanted to see the child from time to time and Kurt and I felt that was more than okay. We covered medical expenses, made sure she was taken care of and then, one day in March, when I was twenty seven and Kurt thirty seven, our daughter was born.

I stopped wishing I could see a long time ago, and just accepted my fate. As time moved on and I became more confident and comfortable with my disability, I forgot what sight was like, until I held our child for the first time.

A pain cut through me, right to my heart, as real and tangible as if it were a knife. I suddenly longed, more than anything, to see her. To see Kurt's face, as he cuddled close, his arm about my shoulders, and to look down at the tiny, squirming baby who was snuffling at my chest, seeking me out, getting to know me.

"Is she very beautiful?" I asked, as tears cascaded down my cheeks.

"Oh Blaine, she is. She really is," Kurt said, his voice hoarse with emotion. "She has dark hair, and a cute little button nose, and she..."

"Kurt? I wish..."

"I know you do. I know," he whispered, placing a soothing kiss to my hair. "But you can see her, you know you can."

He took her into his arms and guided my hand to the top of her soft, warm head. It was smooth, fuzzy with downy hair, and her ears were so tiny. My fingers moved down to her plump little cheeks, and the button nose Kurt described. I explored her face endlessly, and she didn't seem to mind it. In fact, she almost welcomed it, becoming quiet and still in Kurt's embrace.

"I love her," I sobbed, and I felt Kurt press his forehead to mine.

"You wanna keep her?"

"Yeah, why not?"

He laughed, and shifted about until he was in my lap. "Your mom is gonna be insufferable."

"Yeah."

"I think that's okay though, don't you?"

"I think it's understandable."

"I love you, Blaine."

"I love you too."

We stayed like that for a long time, as the child we would come to know as Alice Elizabeth slept peacefully in our arms. My need to see her vanished as I realized Kurt was right. I could see her just fine. My hand stroked over hers and suddenly she gripped my finger in her sleep, tightly, refusing to let go. She needed her daddy and papa just as we needed her. We were complete.

I might not get to see my family, but they're all there; living, breathing, loving me as I love them in return. Kurt, my rock, my soulmate, my true love, and Alice, my pride and joy.

The End


End file.
